


world in colour

by elewho



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Romance, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-21 06:15:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 29,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13734870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elewho/pseuds/elewho
Summary: Soulmate AU; where everything is black and white until they meet - if they meet - their soulmates. A series of oneshots that does follow canon, but deviates just a little. Latest: Yang-st, trying to work through what was happening in her mind during V4.





	1. Blake

At three years old, Blake realises the stupidity of the world.

Why would they - the men she reads about in thick history books - claim that colour was an act of defiance? How did they know what colour was when everything was in different shades of black and white?

She figures it out: they are a group of crazy people that  _made up_  the idea of colour just so they can pick fights with her mom and her dad and the rest of the world. They probably even made up the tradition of naming children based on colour just to gain some kind of moral ground. The books said something about a Mantle (she doesn't really know what that is) and bullies and something else. She closes the book after three lines because there's just too many words blurring together.

But at three years old, Blake wonders why they - the people of Menagerie and apparently all of Remnant - still continue it.

* * *

At five years old, she learns that not  _everyone_  sees the world in black and white.

Her mom and dad don't, and she feels a whole lot of pride whenever she talks about them to anyone who wants to listen. And they do want to listen because their life is dull and bland and  _definitely_  not like her mom and dad. They're what she now terms as: extraordinarily special. She learned that phrase from her mom.

She scrambles up her dad's tree trunk of a leg, gaining small footholds on the creases of his baggy pants. She feels his big hands hook under her arms and lets out a loud  _woohoo_  as she's hoisted onto his lap. She grins up at him, "Dad, what does  _yellow_  look like?"

"Yellow, huh? Hmm."

She watches as her dad scrunches up his forehead and feels the rhythmic tapping of his thumb, telling her that he's thinking. So she waits and waits and waits and finally, he begins, "It's a bright and beautiful colour, Blake. It's the colour of the sun when it shines in the sky so we can see during the day. It's the colour of lemons and bananas. It's also warm and happy, like how your mom and I felt when she gave birth to you."

She giggles at that. "Tell me more."

"It's energy. It's the feeling of confidence to win your fights, or even just that happy feeling when you finish a good book."

"I finished one earlier today!"

She feels a  _yellow_  feeling right now when her dad grins so widely the sides of his eyes crinkle. She holds her head up high that whole afternoon, proud of the small victory.

* * *

"What about purple?"

She looks at the light-gray blotch on the paper and compares it with the other spots. By now, she has her own palette of grays: red-gray, blue-gray and yellow-gray, so maybe she can  _pretend_  to see colour. But when she asked about purple, her dad used  _two_  paint bottles then  _mixed_  it. He's never done that before, and it mesmerises her.

"Purple is a mix of red and blue. It feels like a calm breeze in a meadow full of flowers. It's the colour of grapes and the sky during a sunrise and a sunset. Your mom wears it, see that armband?"

"Yeah!"

"Purple would suit you, too. It's an unusual colour, but it's very pretty. Like you."

She giggles, then decides then and there to have a purple and red and yellow outfit when she grows up.

* * *

At seven, she's confident she knows the most about colours among her peers. She wields this knowledge like a weapon, and sometimes - when she's feeling extra nice - she shares it, telling others about what emotion ties with what colour.

"I love your lunchbox."

"Thanks! It's brand new."

"Can I borrow it?"

"No? It's  _new_ , Laverne. Why would I–"

"I just want to see it!"

"You're  _seeing_  it! Hey! Get your hands off it!"

She's looking at the commotion across the playground when a third party spots her and calls her over.

"Hey! Hey, Blake, what colour is jealousy?"

"It's green," she says confidently.

The one with the lunchbox, now engulfed in long protective arms and tail, raises an eyebrow. "You said trees were green, like, yesterday. Are you saying  _trees_  are jealous?"

She falters for a second before blurting out, "Well, yeah. We're the dominant species. Everybody - everything - wants to be like us."

This gets her more than a few admirers, and she can see why the men in the thick history books used colour as a way of gaining power.

* * *

"I'm so sorry, June."

At fifteen, she discovers the effects of losing colour.

"He was my soulmate. He—I—we were suppose to be  _together_."

"I'm sorry," she repeats, because she doesn't know what else to say. She rubs useless circles on her friend's back. "I'm so sorry."

"Everything is so  _dark_. It's not supposed to be like this." June twists in her chair to face Blake's dad and holds up the folded cloth that came with the tragic news. "I'm supposed to know what colour this is. I'm–I'm supposed to  _know_. What colour is this?"

Ghira, face sombre, lowers himself onto his knees and holds the girl's trembling hands in his. Blake feels a selfish sense of relief that she doesn't have to do the comforting - she's never really been good at that. She rises from her chair and lays a hand on her dad's shoulder. She's given a small nod, and she walks away as he tells June, "It's the colour red. For courage. For bravery. You should be proud of him, June. Don't let the world around you think otherwise."

"It's so  _hard_."

It's at fifteen years old that Blake promises herself to walk away when - if - she ever finds her soulmate. She promises to never put herself through that suffering, that regret of  _choosing_  to love. Because that's what she's taught, that love is a  _choice_. And she'll be damned if she'll let destiny or fate or something higher-up decide that for her. So she'll walk away. She'll walk away and never look back because really, what can a soulmate give in a relationship that someone else cannot?

* * *

She hears a sob force itself through June's throat and she struggles to bank down her instinct to run away. Deliberately, she moves to the kitchen and sees her mom fixing four cups of tea on a tray. She stays by the doorway, and she catches her breath when her mom's hands trembles hard, and a splatter of hot tea hits the floor.

"Shoot."

Blake stays where she is until Kali notices her. When she does, her ears lower, and her hand nervously grips the crook of her elbow.

Kali breaks the silence. "How is June?"

They both know the answer, but Blake says it anyway, "Not good."

Her mom sighs and picks up a cleaning cloth to wipe the mess. She would offer to help, but Blake knows it's her way of getting her thoughts together. She walks forward and leans against the counter, waiting.

Finally, she stands and Kali speaks again, her voice quiet. "Blake."

She says her name in that tone, that tone that meant it's going to be a serious talk. She feels her shoulders hunching - she  _hates_ serious talks. She remembers her first one vividly: right after her playdate with a friend, her parents sat her down in the parlour. She could tell something was up - or maybe she did something wrong - and she had asked what it was. She remembers her parents looking at each other, the way parents do when they have a telepathic conversation, before her mom spoke. She said that dad was going to take over as the High Leader of the White Fang.

At first, she was ecstatic. A  _yellowredorangepurple_  kind of happy. The organisation of the White Fang was  _huge_ , so her dad being a leader must mean they might move into a bigger house and attend cool parties and be called  _sir_  and  _ma'm_.

But, her parents shut down that assumption almost immediately.

Her dad is going to be more busy than ever with meetings and conferences with important people. He said that he'll need her help, too. He said that they were to hold  _peaceful_  protests to fight for equal rights between Humans and Faunus. She nodded eagerly, instantly ready to serve her people.

So she was there, in the forefront of every protest, every rally. A time came when others looked to her for guidance, a  _child_ , but she readily gave it.

But now, as her mom looks at her with trembling eyes, she wonders why anyone ever listens to what she says.

"Your father's stepping down as leader of the White Fang."

She jolts out of a hazy fog. "What?"

"He—we, think that it's best if he is no longer the head of the organisation. But, his leadership didn't go unnoticed, so he was assigned as the new Chieftain of Menagerie."

The latter news flies over her head, unheard. "Is this because of June and Kyran?" A foul taste fills her mouth at the mention of her dead friend, but she ignores it.

"No," her mother answers immediately. "This was decided a few days ago, but we wanted to hold off on telling you until all papers were finalised."

She isn't sure why, but anger spears through the shock. "And you didn't think to include  _me_  in the conversation?"

Kali busies herself with the tea cups, which had gotten cold. She's emptying them down the sink before she murmurs, "We thought you would agree with us."

"That wasn't your call to make!" Her raised tone makes her mom jump.

"Blake." Her mother mumbles her name quietly, patiently, and she begins to feel specks of shame.  _Damn it._  "I'm sorry. But you have to understand our position in the White Fang only puts targets on our backs. Targets that can set very bad people down our path, and the only way to get rid of them is to leave entirely."

The specks of shame go up in smoke. "En- _entirely_?"

"Yes. We'll be turning over our membership masks. We're leaving. Completely.

She can imagine a video camera zooming into her brain, slowly transitioning to a film reel of her childhood. The protest signs. The shouting. The time when she tended to a stab wound. Her training to  _fight_  for her people because that's what her parents had told her to do. Because she was taught to  _fight for what was right._

Fast forward to now; they're telling her that they're stepping down - no.  _Leaving_. They're  _leaving_  the White Fang. What, because some sort of enlightenment that they're actually important people? If someone had wanted them dead, they would've—

_That's it!_

"What's the real reason?"

Kali looks up, confused. "What?"

"Our family has been in the White Fang for decades." She gains momentum, spitting every word like an accusation. She pushes away from the counter and clenches her fists. "Dad has been the leader nearly all my life. Why didn't you leave earlier? Why now? What happened, Mom?"

"Nothing  _happened_ , Blake." For the first time, annoyance and exasperation leaks through Kali's voice. It makes Blake's fists tighten. "This wasn't a decision we made overnight. Ever since your dad was offered the position, we always weighed the pros and cons for the safety of our family. For  _your_  safety. At the time, we thought we had a chance to make a change. And we did. We started small, then that piled up, like a snowball effect. Then the Faunus thought it's wise to take even bigger strides. They began to get more aggressive with the protests, even some without your father's consent. So, overtime, they became less and less receptive to your father's demands. So, we thought it best to step down, and let someone else bring back the peace."

Blake's breathing is heavy, uncertain. She watches as her mother, still holding an empty cup, turn towards the window. She wonders what she sees. Is the sky still blue? Are the trees still green? Even after Kyran's untimely death, is the sun still bright yellow? Because to her, even the hues of gray and black and white seem washed out.

Then Kali turns around again, and Blake sees her eyes are damp. They hold hers, unmoving. As seconds tick by, they remain silent. She knows what her mom isn't asking: to leave with them.

It's not an impossible choice, she knows that. She can choose to live a life without rallys, without fights. She can put away Gambol Shroud like an old memory, a reminder of a childhood she's grown proud of. But she can also choose to stay, to keep fighting. To stand up against the inequality and unwarranted hatred that she's been taught - by her parents - to fight against.

She suppose this fits into a  _gray_  area, that middle ground between black and white. She doesn't like it, but she knows herself, and she knows her mind has already made a decision.

"I'm sorry." It seems she's full of apologies lately.

Kali looks up. She looks afraid to ask, but she does anyway, "For what, honey?"

"I can't go with you." She delivers the blow with a wet voice. "I...I can't leave the White Fang. Not yet."

"Blake—"

"I'm sorry, Mom."

And as she boards the air shuttle that would take her to the mainland, she can blame nobody but herself when the world seem to get a whole lot dimmer.

* * *

To solidify her promise, she chooses black and white as her main colour scheme. The tailor asks why, when there're other colours that would suit her better. She doesn't answer, only staring at him until he shrugs and goes about his work with the sewing machine. After a few minutes of the quiet whirring of the needle, she gives in and tells him to use a bit of purple.

She also buys one long, black ribbon. Then she ties it around her ears like a bow and already feels like she's betraying everything she is.

But she wears her outfit with pride, because it opposes the men in the thick history books. Because at fifteen, she decisively declares that they didn't know what the hell they were talking about.

* * *

She finds a new home in Adam Taurus, but her world remains the same, colourless. So is his, but they're both okay with it. He doesn't want to look for his soulmate. Apparently, things are easier when they're in black and white. More straight-forward. He said if anything, colours would only distract him from what needed to be done, and he cared very little about distractions.

Blake agrees wholeheartedly.

* * *

She remembers her dad saying red is the hardest colour to describe. He said red was the colour of love, his heart as it beats for his wife, his daughter and even his people. It's the colour of happiness he feels when all three of them are together. It's the colour of healthy apples and lovely rose petals.

But it's also the colour of blood, as it glows menacingly in the eyes of Grimm. It's what her dad sees when someone disrespects his family, and what drips down his knuckles when he loses control. He pointed out that the word danger is in red, because it's a bold colour and people notice it immediately.

"Does...does that mean  _you're_  red, Dad? People notice you all the time. Are you dangerous?"

"No, honey, I'm not red. I can be dangerous if I need to be. But never around you. I promise."

"Okay."

* * *

Silently,  _red_  is the colour she associates with Adam. Dangerous, but loving. She sometimes forget the first part, but as they tear through their first cargo train from the Schnee Dust Company, she is sharply reminded of it. The confident swipes and cuts across the air and sometimes...much to her protest, even through bodies. She sees what little care he shows towards his men. She sees him ordering them to start unloading, and nonchalantly shouts at them when they show even a minuscule sign of fatigue. But afterwards, when it's only the two of them and the black night sky peppered with white, glowing dots, she forgets it again.

Adam tells her of his hopes and ambitions. "I want our people to experience equality at work. It's why we robbed that train. The Schnee Company's been using Faunus as cheap labour. Sometimes, they don't even get  _paid_!" Blake feels Adam's fist clench and she holds her breath, but releases it when he relaxes, then continues. "So, we're not stealing. We're only taking back what's rightfully ours. You get that, right?"

"I do." She's trying to.

"Okay. I'm doing this for you too, my love. For us. Your parents held you back from your true skills in battle. And just a few weeks ago, you were  _still_  keeping your weapon in check. Remember what I said?"

"Slice and shoot without looking back."

"Exactly. I'm just trying to free you from their oppression."

She doesn't argue, doesn't say that she doesn't feel oppressed. She misses her parents, dearly. She misses the quiet talks they'd have about their day, then her day, before delving into many conversations about colour. She sometimes begins to write them a letter, telling her that she's alive and she's okay. She wants to tell them that she's gotten better with fighting, and that they should be proud of what she's achieved. But she knows that if she tells them of her actions, especially if it's in the name of the now-notorious White Fang, they'll be so disappointed. And that's what will hurt her the most.

So she crumples the paper and burns it before anyone notices.

* * *

She's tired.

"I'll set the charges."

She wants to stop.

"What about the crew members?"

She wants to  _leave_.

"What about them?"

Before she can respond, a metallic spider charges towards them and she's forced to fight. She's forced to fight again and again and  _again_  until Adam glows white and slices the machine into dust. She runs ahead, the wind threading through her hair and jumps onto the other car. She turns, waits and tries to find the impending regret that she's sure will come.

When Adam runs towards the connector, she's surprised it doesn't.

"Goodbye."

She slashes the cars apart, and she looks up to see the black trees framing Adam's shrinking figure, with the white, broken moon above him. For a second, she thinks of the moon's glow as a spotlight, as if saying  _look. look at what you left behind_. But then she makes out Adam's horns, and instead the glow says  _look. now you're free._

* * *

She doesn't know why she does it at first, but she soon finds herself filling an application for Beacon Academy. It's after she submits it that she lets her mind think.

If she couldn't fight the humans for her species, then she can at least fight the Grimm. As a huntress, she knows that she'll have the job of protecting both Faunus and humans, who she has learned to accept. Obviously, the divide between the two species had narrowed over the years. But for Blake, it wasn't the segregation that troubles her. It was the fact that she did nothing to alleviate it and she actually made it  _worse_.

Blankly, as she wanders the streets of the kingdom she swears to protect, she wonders what colour represents shame.

* * *

She doesn't really care where she sleeps, but it bothers Blake just a little when she's told she'll be sleeping with her entire year group in one big room. She doesn't show it though, nodding her head and carting her single piece of 'carry-on' luggage: a flimsy briefcase. Everyone else  _apparently_  has the money for suitcases. She even spots a bellboy pushing a hotel luggage cart. She shakes her head and begins to make her way to the door.

As she walks down the hallway, she lets her eyes roam around, picking out the students that walked against the throng of first years. She notices a girl with tall and floppy bunny ears, eyes big and apologetic as she bumps and weaves around suitcases and bodies.

"Excuse me. Sorry. Yatsuhashi! Wait!"

Blake lets her lips curve into a wry smile and continues forward. She walks with the traffic, veering left into the Main Hall, already buzzing with excited conversations and action. She makes a beeline for a spot against the wall, passing male students preening and posing for whatever stupid reason. She's in the middle of an eye roll when she bumps into one of them, except this one feels more fluffy and soft rather than hard muscles.

"S-s-sorry!" He chokes out and immediately bends to pick up her case. "I—um. That was my fault. I wasn't looking. Here, let me get your bag."

Face placid, Blake says nothing and makes a grab for her case before walking away, ignoring the way the boy's hands stilled mid-action. That was the first ever interaction she's had with a student and she doesn't really know why she thought it'd go differently. Shaking her head, she finally finds a spot, and settles in by unpacking her candlestick, a matchbox, and a book.

The lights in the hall dim, and the chattering magpies lowered to hushed crickets. She doesn't really need the candle to read, but she lights it anyway. The bright white glow stings her eyes for a moment before they adjust. Opening her book to a memorised page, she sits down on the floor, her back against the wall.

She hears the scuffle rather than see it.

"Wait! What are you doing—Yang—"

"Hellooooo—"

The obnoxious greeting stops midway, and she's forced to look up. At first, she thinks it's the whitest  _white_  she's ever seen. In fact, the girl - the one that didn't cross her arms and didn't look like someone had stolen the last cookie from the jar - looks almost like she's glowing (and it wasn't just her smile), like the candle she lit just a few moments ago. But the glow expands across her field of vision, and her book falls out of her limp fingers.

"Yang! You're  _embarrassing_  me, let me go!"

Colour.  _Colour_. This is the world in  _colour_.

The girl's wide eyes are locked onto hers, and she's sure her expression is pretty much the same. The smile drops and morphs into a big 'O' of wordless surprise. Blake immediately identifies her hair as yellow - what other colour can match the sun in her hair? She thinks that the girl's eyes are pretty, just so damn pretty she can stare at them all day. She might've, if she didn't catch herself ogling like some ten year old boy. So trepidation sets in, a deep drop of the stomach, and before she knows it, she's made a shadow clone and she's running and running, out of the Ballroom, and doesn't stop until she reaches the big statue outside the school.

Finally, she lets herself breathe and discovers  _fear and panic_  is the colour gray slowly seeping in, like a spreading stain on a cloth.

She fights to control her breathing, her vision wavering at the seams. Everything is so  _different,_ so much more...well, colourful. Bracing her hands on her knees, she bends at the waist and looks down. She sees purple for the first time. Willing to take her mind off everything, she decides she'll have to give that tailor a tip because that purple looks great. Then she notices the green grass overlayed with a blue (maybe?) colour. Is that because it's night? Then she notices...red trees? Are they dangerous trees? She'll have to read up on that one. Then she sees purple and a light red colour on the flowers floating on the blue water.

Her breathing evens out, but she's too afraid (or too hypnotised) to stop, so she names all the colours she can.

* * *

When she finally finds steady ground, she calmly makes her way towards Glynda Goodwitch's office - which takes twice as long because of all the _blue and green and red_ \- and knocks. The door eases open, and she crosses the threshold. She takes a moment to take it all in, the different hues and shades and  _gradients_  of colour she never would've imagined. She makes a mental note to borrow at least ten books about it.

Glynda herself stood behind a glass table, her weapon loyally attached to her hip. She has her eyebrow raised, her head tilted in question before she speaks.

"What can I help you with?"

"I'm Blake Belladonna," she begins. She wants to tell her she has yellow hair and a  _purple_  cape, but she doesn't. "I need you to put in a transfer to Haven Academy."

The last part sounds more like an order rather than a request, and Blake can tell her tone had irked the older woman. She has a second to imagine what she will do if she gets kicked out. However, to her relief, Glynda simply scoffs and sits back down, booting up her computer. Blake wonders what kind of green the screen is.

"We don't  _do_  transfers, Ms. Belladonna. We don't just ship students around just because the student says so. That is not how the academies work."

"But—"

"There will be no exceptions to this." Glynda looks up at this and sees Blake's expression. Her eyes narrow, "But do humour me. Why do you want to transfer?"

 _Because my soulmate is here and it only took half a second - maybe even less - to fall in love with her._  But she doesn't say that.

"Just wanted a change," she murmurs.

"A change? A new room?"

 _A new continent entirely._  But she doesn't say that, either.

"No..just..." She can't think of anything else.

"Ms. Belladonna. You have been here for less than a day. I can't tell you much, but you have my word that you won't be staying in the Ballroom for the duration of your time here at Beacon. That would just be...unethical."

Blake fights back a sigh and resigned, she nods, turns around and walks out. Behind her, she hears Glynda pick up her Scroll and murmurs, "Professor Ozpin? Yes, tomorrow's weather indicates clear skies..."

She continues walking until she reaches the entrance to the library. It's still open, so she walks in and heads to a computer to search for books about history and colour. She passes aisles of tall bookshelves - who knew book covers were so many colours?! - and eventually finds a book about the entire spectrum.

She's amazed by everything, and for a brief moment, considers herself lucky. She learns the colour  _blue_  and its variants, remembering how her dad told her about the sky and the fresh feeling of a shower. She sees red for the first time, and her heart gives one solid thud before she forces herself to turn the page.

She powers through four other books before her head lolls to the side as she sleeps.

* * *

"Hey!"

It comes out as a greeting, not an accusation, but Blake jumps anyway when she hears it. Instinctively, she hides the  _green_  leaf she was admiring behind her back (because what normal person would look at leaves?) and fixes a bored expression on her face. This changes into shock and a trickle of fear when she recognises the girl from last night. She might've seen her during launch, but she makes it a point to arrive after the girl was released from the cliff.

Her first thought is how majestic she looks with her ready-to-kick-butt outfit and her flowing mane of bright yellow. Then her next thought is how her eyes - lilac, if she remembers correctly - are now officially her favourite colour. It sparkles of promises and fun and she would love nothing more than to get to know the person that owns it.

Instead, she runs. Or, at least, tries to. Before she takes three steps, she's pinned down by the girl and her Favourite Colour is suddenly very close to her face. She struggles to breathe, to move, but the locks on her wrists are tight.

"Hey," Favourite Colour Girl repeats. "Calm down, okay? Why do you keep running?"

Blake doesn't answer, but she stops moving. Her assailant cautiously eases back and she sits up. She tries for venom, "Maybe because you attacked me?!"

Favourite Colour Girl simply wags a finger. "Nope. Didn't attack you last night, so that reason doesn't go. Name's Yang, by the way."

Yang. Yang with her Favourite Colour and pretty hair and pretty weapons and pretty everything else. She works for a nonchalant tone, but she doesn't trust herself to say much, so she mumbles, "Blake."

"Blake. That nearly sounds like black. Is that why you look monochrome?"

She notices Yang doesn't mention the other colour on her outfit. "No."

"Hmm." Yang pulls her up, and traitorously, Blake's body immediately misses her close proximity. "So, why run?"

She's acting like the world didn't just do a full-360 on her the night before. Shouldn't she be in awe as she is? Can this soulmate thing just be one-sided? She feels the gray seeping in again, but she fights through it to answer her.

"I like to run," Blake berates herself for that dumb statement. I like to run. I like to  _breathe_ , too.

"Oh, yeah?" Yang crosses her arms. "You any good at it?"

She thinks back to her childhood, and even just a year ago. "One of the best."

Then Yang laughs. She laughs, and Blake frantically tries and associates it with a  _pinkyellowscarletorangegoldpurple_  type of colour. "You should meet my sister, Ruby. She's mega fast. That's her semblance, actually. Speed and a florist's paradise right behind her. You don't leave rose petals behind you too, do you?"

Blake shakes her head. She doesn't point out that she meant something different, and she feels a  _dark navy blue_  colour settle in, and Yang hasn't mentioned anything. Maybe but she doesn't need to, but it would be nice to know she wasn't the only one freaking out about all this. So she keeps quiet.

"Jeez, a woman of less than five words, huh? That's fine, but we better get moving if we wanna grab a relic."

Soulmate. Relic.  _Partners_. Fear and more  _gray_  panic creeps up her throat, and she tenses up to run away again when Yang grabs her wrists. She wants to get angry - can she read her mind too? - but doesn't quite make it. Instead, she lets herself be pulled and she walks, wrist-in-hand, across the  _browngreen_  forest floor.

"Oh, by the way," Yang turns and shoots her a grin that might've outshined the sun and the moon combined, "I like the purple."


	2. Qrow & Team STRQ

_Slurp._

Leaning with one leg bent, foot flat against the hard trunk of a tree, he takes the last swig, closing his eyes as he feels the whiskey, sweetly warm, slide down his throat before it simmers like an ember in his stomach. It's kinda psychotic of him to drink something that reminds him of flickering flames, considering he'd recently caused the combustion of a nearby village.

But, whatever.

It's after that realisation that he decides whiskey is the colour of fire. That burning sensation in the throat and stomach can very well parallel the heat emitting from the flames that creep up the buildings like vines before engulfing it entirely. He understands whiskey (completely entirely understands it) and he understands fire, so he thinks he has the proper qualifications to make the comparison.

Sighing in content, he carelessly pockets the hip flask, hooks a hand under a bag strap and hoists it over his shoulder. He pushes away from the trunk and gets himself on the gravel road flanked by forests of more trees towards...nowhere in particular.

Then again, he never really knows where he's going. He'll follow the wind, the rain, walk in whatever direction the sand blows towards. But where ever he goes, he always,  _always_ , wind up back here: a hippie-like bandit camp that's currently on the fourth leg of their sold-out Sanas tour of Destroying People's Lives. He's been a supporting act in some performances - definitely not his proudest moments - but he couldn't really stop. Not when he  _owes_  his life to these murderers and rogues.

Not just his, he corrects himself. Raven. They saved Raven, too.

And as if he'd summoned her, he spots a familiar bird swooping down from above, flying past him before perching itself on a tree branch. He keeps walking, his eyes on the vanishing point between the roads.

_One. Two. Three. Four–_

"You're going to tell me where you're going."

Face morphing into disinterest, he looks up to see Raven leaning against the trunk in a pose that he often finds himself in when drinking. He slides a hand in his pocket. "Am I?"

She shifts slightly, and Qrow immediately feels the temperature drop several degrees. "Think you can keep something from me?"

"I'm not thinking anything."

They simultaneously narrow their eyes, studying each other. He finds it only mildly annoying to be so similar; it's like looking in a mirror. However it does serve its purpose during battle, where there are no time for words, and multiple times, it's kept both of them safe and alive.

Finally, Raven declares, "You're running away again."

"You seem so sure about that I guess I'd better go with it."

"Because I know you." She jumps down, a sturdy landing. She strides up towards him and jabs an accusatory finger at his chest. "Because you're starting to feel bad again."

He refuses to break eye contact and doesn't until Raven sighs. He silently chalks up a point on his scoreboard.

She turns and steps away, gingerly placing the heel of her hand to her head. "Qrow, when're you going to learn that this is just something we  _do_? We need to survive. To survive, we need to–"

"Prey on the weak?"

She twists around. "Is that what you think? You think we're predators? I don't know if you noticed, genius, but there're actual monsters here that can tear us limb from limb so–"

"So we decide to do the exact same thing to villages who are doing the exact same thing we're doing." Even though he's feeling a little woozy, he knows he's made his point. "Surviving, you put it? What do you think the people of that town were doing? You think they opened the gates to us and welcomed us to the lives of their villagers and their food and metal? I don't know what you saw but it sure as hell didn't look like it. We're not any better than the Grimm, Raven, and you are  _leaping_  to defend those bandits, those murderers, and telling me those two are not the same?"

"They're our family."

Qrow visbily flinches at that. He's always known Raven considered the thieves her new family. But he never accepted that, never believed that a family can be replaced. Sombrely, he replies, "No, Raven. They're  _your_  family.  _My_  family died, and you are all that's left of it."

He walks a few steps past her before stopping. "I'm going to Vale, by the way."

"What? What? Why're you going to Vale?"

He chuckles, a low rumble in the throat. "Well, for one, Atlas is too cold, and I don't think your  _family_ provided us with any snow gear. Mistral's across an ocean. And I tend to stay away from sand and deserts in general. I might cause a sandstorm. So, no Vacuo. So this leaves me with Vale which, conveniently, is only a two day journey."

He turns back around to grin at Raven, but sees no one there. The blooming smile begins to dim before he hears her behind him.  _Damn it_. Fighting an eye roll, he turns and sees her with a rucksack over her shoulder and a growing smirk on her face.  _Sneaky little_ –

"You'd have to repeat everything you just said," she says. "I figured you'd go on a tangent and I had time during it to fly back for my things. I was right."

Qrow fights back a smile and masks it with a lift of an eyebrow. "I didn't ask you to come with me."

"No," Raven shrugs. "But unfortunately - get it? - you're my family, too."

Qrow says nothing else and begins to walk. He expected nothing less when Raven fell in step beside him.

Underneath the bravado and the...misunderstanding of morals, he knows Raven remembers how to act like a decent human being. He's sometimes lucky enough to witness the very rare occasions she does, and he effectively remembers His Sister and that  _she_  is the one he's always going back to. Not the bandits, not to pay back his debt, but because he knows he can't go anywhere else without Raven.

He also knows he will take his sentiments to the grave.

* * *

"This is stupid."

"Yup."

"How do we even get in?"

"We apply. We fight things. We win. We get into Beacon. We drink."

"You make it sound so...not exciting."

"That's the point."

* * *

It wasn't entirely his fault. Everyone else was sleeping through the lecture, but, as luck would have it,  _he_  had to be the one who got caught with his mouth open.

"Branwen!"

Raven immediately stiffens. "Yes, Professor?"

"No, not–" Professor - no, Teacher  _Assistant_  - Port inhaled deeply. "Not you.  _Qrow_!"

He feels a hard kick in the shin and pops up like a jack-in-the-box. "Ow! What's your deal?"

He hisses before his vision clears enough to see Raven looking back and forth between him and to the front of the room. He doesn't get it at first, but then he feels his saliva on his chin.  _Damn_. Quickly, he wipes it off and swivels around to the front.

"My  _deal_ , Mr. Branwen, is you've been sleeping in my class during my storytelling. There are many lessons to be learned from them and I expect each student to take them to heart."

"Is modesty one of them?" Qrow deadpans and earns a few snickers from around the room.

"Modesty  _is_  the best policy. Of course, that is heightened for people who've found colour! Like me! And let me tell you all young ones, I am wearing  _red_. Why, you ask? Because  _red_  is a dangerous colour. It pops out anywhere you go. It's bold and it can always be seen among any other colours you pit against it. And I wear it because I want those monsters to know that I am a force to be reckoned with."

Qrow shares an uncomfortable look with Raven. Their parents told them they have red eyes a lifetime ago, but neither of them really had the curiosity to ask what it means. They both thought that red is a normal eye colour, so they let it go.

"Do Grimm see in colour, Professor?" The question comes from the other side of the room.

"That is a good question, Robin! To my knowledge, research regarding a Grimm's vision is still being conducted in Atlas. It's been difficult, they say, since the monsters they catch for tests often die within a day or two in captivity."

The same student asks, "Why is that?"

"It's just the way they were..."

"Made? Born? Spontaneously evolve from inanimate objects?"

"These questions would be better suited for the Atlas scientists, Robin. I'm not  _that_  awesome, though I thank you for thinking I am."

There's a beat of silence. Qrow raises a hand, a parody of seriousness, before letting it fall. "So why wear red if it can't even be  _seen_  as red?"

"You tell me, Mr. Branwen. Why is  _your_  cape red if, as you pointed out, it can't be seen as red?"

"I didn't know." He shifts around, uncomfortable. He just found it amongst the salvaged items from his childhood home. He thought he remembers his father wearing it, so he swirled it on. It engulfed him completely as a kid, but he never took it off since.

"You can never be sure that they  _don't_  see red. Preparation, ladies and gentlemen, is the key to any battle. Always assume your opponent can see you, colour or not. Don't let anything take you by surprise."

But the element of surprise has always been his specialty, he muses. As the bell rings in the start of lunch, Qrow and Raven make their way to the cafeteria. There's already a significantly long line of students against both sides of the room, all equipped with an empty tray. He hears Raven sigh and she's about to turn around when he grabs her arm.

"Hey. Come on. We don't have that much Lien to keep buying food from shops. Besides, we have the other two to hang out with."

She turns back around to eye the entire hall. "How're we supposed to find them?"

"Branwens! Over here! We saved you a table!"

"Yeah! We–hey, no! This is our spot. Get another table! We got you food, too!

Qrow grins at the two flailing figures on his right. He angles his body towards his sister and gestures with his hand, "Like that."

They weave through the tables and moving students. As he passes the middle aisle, he can't help but notice the segregation between Faunus and humans. Of course, some Faunus are peppered here and there. He assumes they're the brave ones who actually sit with their team - as they should - but most of them were near the back, talking amongst themselves. A cluster of them suddenly moves as one to make space for more Faunus, and Qrow recognises them as one whole team.

They reach the table and sit, with Tai and Summer on the other side. Qrow grins when Summer pushes a tray filled with today's menu towards him. It looks like mush, but he doesn't say anything.

"Thanks, Summer."

"Mm-hmm."

Tai does the same thing with Raven. With a bored expression, she says nothing and stabs the meat with a fork.

Qrow kicks her leg under the table and she jolts. Face placid, he only raises an eyebrow as her head swivels to throw invisible daggers. He sees her hand clench in a fist, and he bets she's imagining punching it through his face.  _Too bad for her._

Through gritted teeth, she turns to Tai says, "Thank you."

To his credit, Tai just nods and explodes in conversation. "So! Guys. How were your classes?"

"We had that new assistant second period. Professor Olive ditched," he says through a mouthful of...whatever this is.

"Ouch." Tai turns to Raven and brightens up a winning smile. Qrow likes him well enough, so he doesn't really have the heart to say that no amount of smiling and flirting will win Raven over. "Did he flirt with you?"

Raven's eyes widen before she's overcome with a coughing fit. Qrow laughs and grins around the fork in his mouth. He hasn't seen his sister so flustered in a long time. It's a nice reminder of the time she was asked on her first playdate. She didn't stop talking about what to wear until her date was right at the door.

Summer, who bolted out of her seat and went behind Raven, keeps patting the small of her back in comfort. Not that it does much. "Tai." She says the name with exasperation. "Why would you say that?"

"What? It's true! He flirted with the girls I sit with in history class. Even in Colours 101. He flirted with  _you_!"

Summer's face contort into distaste. "Pfft, no. No way. Why would he? He was just being...nice?"

Qrow snorts at the obvious hesitation and shovels in another forkful. "Definitely flirted."

"See, Qrow agrees."

"You know what, Qrow, just–" She uses her free hand to nearly shove his face into the tray.  _S_ _o s_ _trong for such a tiny package._  "Just keep eating."

Raven manages to gather herself, somewhat. Small coughs escape her, but it isn't as much as before. Throat apparently parched, she grabs a cup nearby, assumingly Summer's, and drinks.

Summer shifts uncomfortably. "Ah...Raven, that's lemonade I don't think you'd–"

It takes her a few moments before she spits the drink right at Tai's bewildered face. Qrow stares and stares until he howls with laughter, dropping his fork and slapping the table in obvious delight. Summer, clearly in distress, pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs before resuming the comforting circles.

"That was–you just–"

" _Can_   _it_ , Qrow."

"Man! Wish I–that was– _Dude_ , I wish I recorded that. That was awesome!"

"Qrow–"

"Hey, bird shit!"

The shout comes from the back of the hall, and everybody, including Qrow, hushes to listen. His team - except a recovering Raven, though she does follow - turn in their seats to face the commotion. A group of students - humans - are towering over the table full of Faunus. One of them - presumably the 'leader' - is holding a cup of...water?

His smile dims; he doesn't like the feeling of this, but he doesn't really know what's 'normal' in a school, more less a Huntsmen school. He frowns as the assumed leader moves forward. The rest of the group have smirks on their faces, like they're watching a movie where the villain wins.  _Definitely don't like this._

The bird-boy keeps his head down, spooning up the last few dregs of his chili con carne. The elk-girl looks ready to bolt, but the ox-boy keeps a tight grip on her hand. Qrow watches as they make eye contact. He can see Elk begging to be let go, pulling on her hand, but Ox shakes his head before slowly turning to face the group.

The leader talks, "Remember what Prof. Braith taught us in class today? Well, in case you didn't because...I don't know, maybe the antlers got in the way or something, he taught us that water is the colour  _blue_. It's a refreshing colour. Like the swimming pool or the ocean right by the docks. But have you ever heard the phrase...'feeling blue?' No? Thought not. Well, anyway, with the dry season and all, I figured all of you needed a refreshment so you stop  _feeling blue_. So out of the pure goodness of my heart, here."

He thrusts forward the cup. "Have a drink." It wasn't a request.

Tai clenches a fist. "That's not water," he mutters.

Qrow angles himself towards him, his eyebrow raised. "What? What is it?"

"It's piss. I can smell it from here. He asked about it in class, too. He's trying to get them to drink pee. Disgusting."

Summer's eyes widen and she faces the group again. Before Qrow can blink and hold her back, she's already slapped the cup to the ground and stood between the Faunus and the humans with murder in her eye. She shoves the human a full step back towards his followers.

Qrow, Raven and Tai share a look. "I left my weapon in the dorm room," Raven whispers.

Qrow is looking at Tai's narrowed eyes. "Don't think we'd need anything for a fight. You got a plan, Tai?"

"I think I do, yeah." He's quiet again, and Qrow can see the wheels turning. Finally, he says, "Raven, go get someone. Fast. Qrow, stand by the water dispenser." They all nod. Silently, they stand and move off as Summer shouts.

"Are you insane?!"

"You're the one that spilled perfectly good water!"

"That's not even water!"

"Sure it is!" The guy smirks. "I just wanted to be a nice friend. What's wrong with that?"

"Who said something was wrong with new friends?" All casual, Tai walks up besides Summer, hands linked behind his head. "It's been less than a week, after all. So, I see no reason why you can't get your new friend here another cup."

Summer frowns up at him. "Tai–"

He just smiles back at her.

The leader stays quiet for a moment. "They ran out."

"Nope!" Qrow is standing right by the water dispenser, as told. Baring his teeth into what can loosely be called a grin, he holds up a cup. "Plenty here." he says and demonstrates it by drinking.

"Looks like you're wrong on that one. Go on," Tai smiles. "Be a pal, would you, and get two cups? Wait, Summer, are you thirsty? Okay, make that three."

Qrow stays in place as the whole cafeteria watches Mr. Leader drag his feet towards him.  _What is it with bullies not expecting retaliation?_  As the guy shuffles closer, he crosses his arms and stands up straight, keeping his eyes on him. He looks like a prisoner walking in shackles. He winks when the guy tries giving him a death stare, which wilted as soon as it bloomed. He turns and begins walking back, and Qrow imagines for a sweet moment of planting his boot right on his ass and just  _shove_. He would love nothing more than to give him a taste of his own medicine, but he figured Tai had a less...destructive plan to get back at him.

"Hey, thanks!" Tai reaches for two of the cups, handing it off to Summer and they both drink. Mr. Leader still doesn't say anything.

"You gonna give that to them or what?" Qrow had to grin at Summer's attempt at venom. It sounds more like a mouse threatening the cat with tiny cheese pellets.

For a moment, there's no movement. Qrow rolls his eyes, then spots a bird fluttering outside the window. He tilts his head, and the bird tilts its own the other way. He raises an eyebrow.  _Raven. Who did she get?_

Then a small, subtle tornado of glitter appears behind Summer and Tai. Alarmed, Qrow opens his mouth to warn them but shuts it immediately when he recognises who materialised. Luckily for the plan (whatever it is), Tai was tall and broad enough to block most of the sparkle from the bullies, with Summer contributing just the top of her head. Grinning, he turns to the window again and gives Raven a thumbs up. The bird raises a wing in acknowledgement and stays on the tree branch to watch the show.

"Do what the lady tells you," Tai smiles and Qrow swears he hears at least a dozen girls sigh dreamily.

Another beat of silence. Then, "You look like you need  _another_  drink. Here!"

For the second time today, Tai is the target for a projected liquid. But he's quicker this time. This time, he expects it. With his hand on Summer's back, he quickly lowers both of them down as the bully tosses the water in their direction. There's a splat, and a crescendo of gasps and ' _oooo_ ' comes from all sides of the room. The water hits Professor Peach.

Another beat of silence, and Qrow can basically see the bully's face lose its shade, becoming whiter and whiter by each passing second. Or is it greyer and greyer? His army had already left him, choosing instead to stand on the other side of the room to maintain their supposed innocence. Finally, Professor Peach wipes the dripping water with her sleeve and says quietly, "Apologise."

The bully bursts like a water pipe. "I'm sorry! So sorry. I'm sorry. I swear, I didn't–"

"Not to me, Aurelius. To me, you'll apologise with detention and hours of community service. I meant for you to apologise to your colleagues."

"I..." He looks down at Tai and Summer, who remains crouching with identical, barely-controlled smiles threatening to break out. "Sorry."

"There's someone else."

Qrow snickers as the bully - Aurelius - turn his head slowly, as if in a neck brace, towards the Faunus. He shoves his hands in his pockets and keeps his head down. "Sorry," he mutters, barely audible.

"You look  _up_  to the person you're apologising to, Aurelius."

Qrow grins, unabashed. He's enjoying this. Immensely.

Aurelius lifts his head slowly like it weighed 5000 pounds. "Sorry," Qrow can see his jaw twitch and smirks. Aurelius visibly jolts when Professor Peach lays a hand on his shoulder.

"Let's go."

When they walk out of the room, a chorus of applause and cheers erupted. Qrow laughs and makes his way towards Summer and Tai. Raven appears beside them and they all grin. Compliments and encouragement are tossed at them from all sides.

"You're the coolest!"

"I would've never had the tail to do that!"

"Do it again next time!"

Qrow shares a glance with his sister and grins.  _Look at us._ Apparently, Raven thinks the same thing and she tosses an arm around him and Tai. Tai grins and wraps an arm around Summer's shoulder. It's this moment that Qrow thinks that his semblance wouldn't have any impact on this. Whatever  _this_  is. Around them, someone apparently knew their team name and shouted it, the chanting spreading like wildfire throughout the room.

"Team STRQ! Team STRQ! Team STRQ!"

* * *

Later, he associates the colour of victory with the taste of refined wine. He raises the glass to his lips, quickly adding a pinch of cheese and thinks of fireworks. White bursts in the black sky. A rip in the calamity of the night. He wishes he can just capture that, like the photo his team took after lunch, courtesy of that girl in class - Robin? Whatever.

Then if anyone asks about how he feels right now, right this second, he'd just show it to them.

* * *

The years pass by, uneventful. The all-Faunus team - which Qrow learns are dubbed as Team CTRS - barely get any trouble with Aurelius and his disciples. Much to the latter's chagrin, Qrow actually becomes good friends with the Faunus. They - along with his own team - sit together, both in classes and in the cafeteria. He even suspects a romance blossoming between Ox ("Ox _ford_ , damn it!") and Summer, though he doubts it's the real thing.

They're in their senior year, and they're just finishing up their lunch when the PA system announces Vale as the host of a very important event. Before he knows it, he, Raven and Summer are being pulled and pushed and cornered in the dorm room. Tai blocks the door, and suddenly  _he's_  being interrogated on how much  _individual_  - because it's not a group effort or anything - training he's done for the Vytal tournament.

"Nobody else is being grilled on their training," he mutters.

"That's because they  _will_  be." Tai's finger jabs through the air, and Qrow can see Summer curl into herself. Raven just shrugs. "So, starting with you."

"I don't know? The usual? Grimm–"

"We are not fighting Grimm, Qrow! We're fighting people! Real people that actually have brains and can actually kick our asses as soon as we step out on that field."

"Actually, there's a few minutes where we just stand there until they pick out a biome."

Qrow snorts as Tai smolders. If they were in a cartoon, he can imagine steam blowing out his ears with high pressure.

"Why do you care so much anyway?"

"Who  _doesn't_  care about it? It's the biggest thing in a Huntsmen academy."

"Sure. But why do  _you_  wanna win?"

"Who  _doesn't_  want to win?"

Qrow sighs. "You're definitely not winning Miss Remnant. Or Miss Salas. Or whatever beauty pageant."

He turns to Raven, "How 'bout you?"

Another shrug. "It's just an excuse for me to kick people on my way out of this school."

"Fine. Summer?"

"I'll consider it as training. It'd be nice to warm myself up for the outside before we graduate."

"So we all agree this is important." Qrow turns back to Tai. "We're a well oiled machine, Tai. We've beaten every team we sparred against. What do teams from other academies have that we won't?"

"Skill? Precise battle tactics? Believe me, those Atlas teams can name more than a few. And yes, fine. We work well together, but there're some situations where the enemies get behind us and we have to scramble around to rearrange ourselves. That's fine and all, but it's kind of hard to do when some of us are in 1v1 fights. Raven nearly broke her leg from that tree fighting that guy."

Qrow would've told him the exact opposite, but a warning glare from Raven keeps him quiet.

"Sometimes, one of us misses the opportunity and we let a winning attack pass. And–"

"We'll be  _fine,_ " Qrow interrupts. "Just don't break a leg. Or a knuckle. Or any bone for that matter. We got this, Tai." He reaches for his hip flask. "Don't even worry about it."

* * *

But he's worrying now. Hard. Like, sweat-dripping-from-places-he-didn't-know-it-could hard.

He stands in front of the mirror with a stricken look. His hair is combed back, to Summer's insistence, and he's covered in a suffocating suit, again to Summer's insistence, that they rented from the tailor in Vale.

"Blood red," the tailor said. "Matches your eyes perfectly."

Who didn't want to be told their eyes were the colour of blood?

He lets out a shaky breath and wonders why people ever go to stupid dances. Why do people even dance in suits and ties? And why  _formal_  dancing? The only dancing he's ever really seen were alcohol-provoked grinding and wiggling, and even then he has his uncertainties. He lifts his sweaty hands to wipe them on his lapel when fingers wrap themselves around his wrist. He turns to see Summer, pretty as ever in a ridiculously short dress, look at him with curious eyes.

"Nervous?"

He is never that transparent. And  _damn_   _it_ , he's never had a problem with dancing, either. His skills in that department has earned him more than enough stories to tell for at least a century, so why is his brain making everything such a big deal? "No," he says, like there's no other answer. But Summer keeps her eyes on him, and he yields. "That obvious, huh?"

"Kind of. Your sister's just in the CTRS room. Tai's with her," she says before he asks. "They're just having a moment."

That stalls his nervousness from overcoming him completely. "A  _moment_? What the hell does that mean?"

"Just..." Suddenly, Summer busies herself with her corsage, her hair, her dress, then back to her corsage. "You know. A moment. A  _there there_  moment. Like the kind of moment I'm having with you right now. It's not momentous or anything. It's just a moment that will cease momentarily...at least, as soon as they lose momentum with the moment–."

She might've kept going if Qrow hadn't shushed her. "I got it," he says. "Just a moment."

"Yes."

"Okay then." He looks back at the mirror, decided that this is as good as it's going to get and turns towards Summer. "Well? Do I look good enough for several  _moments_  with some of the girls?"

He grins as Summer laughs, looping her arm around his bent arm as they walk out the door. "More than several, I assume. Are you going with Iris?"

"Who?"

"Iris. The new girl in your Grimm Studies?" She sighs. "I don't even know why I asked. Tai told me she's been looking at you ever since you defended Robin from one of Aurelius' thugs."

He waves it off. "Anyone would do the same."

"I don't think so," she retorts. "Okay. How about Violet?"

"Who?"

Summer stops and faces him. "Did you ask  _anyone_  out?" she demands.

"Not really." He jerks a shoulder. "Just wanted to fly solo this year, you know? Last year was..."

"You don't have to remind me." She rolls her eyes and keeps walking. "I still can't get her pure horror expression out of my head. I'm glad she was a senior. It would've been awful seeing her in the hallway."

"Seeing who in the hallway?"

They both turn, and Qrow subtly narrows his eyes at Raven's arm around Tai's.  _Moment, my ass._  When did this happen? And why didn't he see it happening? How  _long_  has this even been going on? Despite the stream of questions, he keeps his expression smug. "The girl from last year's dance," he answers.

Raven rolls her eyes. "Do you ever stop gloating?"

"Only when the shine's rubbed off. That one's still fresh."

"Speaking of," Summer smiles. "You two  _look_  fresh."

Tai grins boyishly. "Right back at you, sweet pea."

They keep up aimless conversations as they walk towards the Ballroom, where the music leaks through the gaps in the doorway. A sliver of moonlight spilled into the hallway through the window. A breeze tousled his hair as he walks past. The scent of blooming flowers accompany the smell of alcohol, which brings a vague memory of drinking champagne. A seductive drink, if he recalls, which he associated with the colour of pleasure. Finally, they reach the door. Qrow stops and removes Summer's arm from his. "Hey. You go on ahead. I'll scavenge for drinks."

"The drinks are inside," Raven says dryly and earns a glare.

"I  _know_."

Summer smiles, soft and understanding. "I'll see you in there."

"Yeah."

"Come on, Tai."

"What? Why?"

Qrow can hear Summer grind her teeth together. "I  _said_ , come  _on_ , Tai."

"Wh-oh.  _Oh_. Okay." Tai chuckles nervously as he moves forward. He turns back around to Raven and gives her a thumbs up. "I'll save you a drink. Oxford spiked the punch."

"Counting on you."

The doors open, and Qrow hears a quiet yet a venomous  _you idiot_  before they close again. He turns towards the window, planting his hands on the sill. He wonders what that big statue looks like with the moon's light above it. Does it cast shadows? Does it change colour at all? Then he thinks of his future. Will  _he_  cast shadows to the people he's sworn to protect? Will he hurt them instead? He can never know the full extent of his semblance, nor does he really want to.

Raven walks over, leaning her hip against the windowsill and crosses his arms. "You're making me miss out on spiked punch. And possibly a mutual first dance. So. What is it?"

He looks at her now. They've never been the closest of family members. Sure, they've had their moments. But Qrow have always considered it a miracle that she remains unscathed in his presence. So he trusts her. Completely.

"There's a guy," he begins.

Raven's eyes are suddenly as wide as saucers. "Are you  _gay_?"

"What-no!"  _What the hell?_  "No. I like girls. I love girls. No, I mean, I got a letter. Professor Peach gave it to me yesterday before lights out. It was from Headmaster Ozpin." Raven raises her eyebrows at that, and he raises his shoulders in an I-have-no-idea gesture. "He wanted to talk about a job after I graduate. According to him, it would be 'an offer you'll only receive once'. I don't know what the job is, but–"

"Are you gonna take it?"

"I don't know. What bugs me is how he found  _me_. My grades are no where near as high enough to be...distinguishable, at least, among the rest–"

"Wait," Raven holds up a hand. "Did the letter come with a due date?"

"Uh...no."

"So, push it back until tomorrow, Qrow." She walks to the door, and turns back around. "It's a  _dance_. You've never arrived this late, and people are gonna notice. Probably already did."

"I know." He lets a restless hand thread through his hair. "But it just...bugs me."

"Then spray on the repellant. You actually  _look_  worried."

He sighs as she pushes the door open, letting the steady stream of dance music and conversations spill through before it's muffled again. She's right. Of course she's right. He's just making a big deal out of everything tonight. He takes one, supposedly cleansing, breath, and shakes away the worried expression on his face. He shoves open the door, immediately brightening into a grin as he spots Oxford lingering around the edges of the dance floor. He wore a suit that seemed a little too big for his size, with shoes that look like he'll trip over them. Grinning, he strides up to him and hooks an arm around his neck. "You gonna stand there looking like a grandpa or are you gonna dance?"

"I will. In a minute. I'm just looking out for teachers."

Qrow chuckles, pats his back and turns just as three girls looking just-above-legal-age in sky-high heels rush up to him.

"Ladies."

"Where  _were_  you?" one whines like a child whose teddy bear got taken away. "We were waiting forever. The party's already started, like, a couple minutes ago."

He scoffs, letting his arms be pulled possessively around their shoulders. They smell like an overload of perfume. He catches Tai's lifted eyebrow from the punch bowl and winks. "What are you talking about? The party's  _just_  begun."

* * *

"My  _head_."

Qrow lets out a laugh as he carts her bridal-style to their room. They're both way past the line of tipsy, but he's still outside of the Drunk Zone, while she's already cart-wheeling into the I-won't-remember-any-of-this zone. "Summer, you know you're a lightweight. Why'd you drink so much?"

"It's- _hic_ -our senior year, Q! Gotta...gotta live it down. Up. Live it up."

"Uh-huh."

He stops right outside the door, and weighs his options. He can try reaching the doorknob, but that might give Summer some concussions, especially since her head is bobbing over his arm like a rag doll. He has another option of spinning her around into a fireman's carry. Less chance of hitting her head against the doorframe there.

He goes with option number two, ducking his head as he lifts Summer up before draping her slack body around his shoulders.

"Wee- _hic_ -eee!"

"Okay. Here we go." He navigates his way around the scattered books and bags.  _They should really clean up the place_. He reaches the far side of the room, and he carefully lays her down on her bed. He had to grin when she all but slips down his arms like putty. She moves around, knocking off a throw pillow and settles on her side facing him.

"You okay?" he murmurs.

"I am awesome, thank you very m- _hic_ -much. Is the room spinning for you, too?"

"Not really."

"Oh, okay. It's like a carousel. It's fun. Really f- _hic_ -fun. But I get dizzy sometimes. But not now though. I only get dizzy when it- _hic_ -when it goes in the air. Like airships. It's quiet here. I like it. Where's Tai and Raven?"

For the tenth time that hour, he replies with the same answer. "Still at the dance."

"Oh. Why did w- _hic_ -we leave them?"

"Because you're wasted off your heels, Summer. You gotta get some sleep."

"You know what I think?" She rushes out. "I think that punch - spiked punch, because that's what it was - is the colour of p- _hic_ -puke."

"Puke." He can't believe he's here babysitting instead of dancing.

"Yup. And I think I'm about to–"

She doesn't finish the sentence and dry heaves off the bed and on the floor with her mouth open. Alarmed and a lot more horrified than he cares to admit, Qrow crawls around for something -  _anything_  - to catch the next one. His mind quickly pictures a puddle of puke that he'd have to clean up and his search speed increases tenfold. His fingers latches on to a bag, immediately upending it and spilling all its contents. He makes it at the nick of time as Summer heaves again, this time the puke comes along, and she empties her stomach in the bag. She hurls, hunched over as Qrow gingerly pats her back.

"No more drinking for you, lady."

"But it's so much–" She retches up another gallon of punch mixed with what smells like the avocados on the hors d'oeuvres. Qrow has to depend on his sheer manliness not to join her and instead turns his head away, holding his breath. The sound of her dry heaves twists his stomach, but he does his job and pats her back and hopes like hell it isn't his bag.

"Okay," Summer mumbles. "Okay, I'm okay. I think I'm okay. I feel like I don't have a liver, but that's fine. I'll just..." She crawls back up to the bed. Cautiously, he grabs the small pillow on the floor and offers it. She gives him a small smile and hugs it firmly over her chest before slowly closing her eyes.

Qrow scratches the back of his head.  _Well, okay_. He sits back on his hunches, debating whether to sleep off the night or go back to the party. He can't really leave her here alone - who knows what other drunk can wander in? - but he wanted to wring out every minute of his last dance at Beacon.

A foul smell hits him, and he bumps that to the top of the to-do list. He pushes himself up as quietly as possible. By the tips of his fingers, he carries the bag out of the room, quickly running to the bathroom and dumps it in the trash. Luckily, nobody feels the immediate need to empty their bladder. So he allows himself one big breath before the puke smell surrounds the room. He moves to the sink, pumping out soap from the dispenser before turning on the tap.

He looks at himself in the mirror and winces. His eyes are shot, his hair is a mess. He exhales in his hand; his breath smells like fish. But he does have a bold outline of lips on his jaw. So that counts for something.

He makes his way back to the room and finds Summer awake, the pillow still clutched by her chest. She looks up, eyes big and quiet, and Qrow thinks she could ask him to kill someone right now and he'd have no choice but to do it. Like a little sister looking up to big bro.  _Like how Raven would've been if shit didn't happen_. He doesn't think of what could've been often, but that's sometimes a drawback of drinking. He'd  _think_. But Summer needs him now, so he pushes everything to the back burner - at least, for now. He crouches down to her eye level and lifts an eyebrow.

"You alright?"

"Why do you drink?"

The question throws him off-guard. "What?"

"You drink everyday. I see the bottles. And I can smell it in your breath before you eat those mints. I asked Raven about it but she wouldn't really say anything. So I drank a bit - okay, a lot - I drank a  _lot_  tonight. I wanted to see if I can...I don't know, understand you better?"

He smiles and feels oddly warm inside. "And do you? Understand me better?"

"Only thing I understand is that alcohol is  _poison_. So, no. Not even a little bit."

He chuckles lightly, quieting down as he thinks back to his first alcoholic beverage. He was barely ten, and he found it stashed among one of the bandit's celebration pile. He was caught, of course, then he was asked to drink. He hated the taste, and for a while he associated all alcohol with the colour of bitterness. But he tried it again when he was fifteen, and he realises it takes his mind off his guilt and his parents and his luck and he decides it actually wasn't so bad.

"Why do you drink, Qrow?"

He looks at Summer with a ghost of a smile. "Million Lien question, huh? You said alcohol is poison. Funnily enough, that's the perfect description. I drink..." he pauses, trying to find the right words. "I drink, Summer, because there's something in me I  _really_  want to kill."

* * *

"Are we skipping class today?"

"Don't think so?" Qrow looks from Raven to Summer. "Are we?"

"No, no, no. I just need a minute. My head's still throbbing."

He lifts an eyebrow. "We  _can_  skip class, you know. You said you were riding a carousel last night."

Raven snorts, "Seriously?"

Summer surges up and pointedly hauls her bag over her shoulder. "Yeah. Well. I'm getting off this carousel." She rubs her forehead. Qrow takes a little pity on her and draws the curtains closer.

"Thanks. I'm getting off this carousel," she repeats and winces. "And possibly get on a death-defying roller coaster."

Qrow laughs, and is internally setting himself up for yet another boring day when Tai pipes up from his side of the room.

"Anyone seen my bag?"

* * *

"Team STRQ. You'll be the second fight of the qualifiers. Don't be late."

Tai nods like a soldier given an order. The other three roll their eyes, and they all make their way out of the Main Hall as the announcer kept calling out team names and their fight times.

It's the first day of the Vytal tournament. The white sun seems to be glowing brighter than usual, but Qrow decides that's the hangover trying to settle in. The atmosphere around Beacon (and Vale) is unlike any other, with so many cultures and traditions on display all in one place. He figures he's seen different shades of black and grey today than he has his whole life. Especially those that came from Vacuo. They gave him a headache when a throng of them spilled out into the hallway, shouting and hollering at each other like hyenas.

They're walking to the prep room to get their weapons from their lockers when he overhears a conversation with two Atlas students - defined by their bright white, pressed like printed paper uniforms - wallflowering by the wall closest to the hallway.

"I ate a green apple today."

"Saved me any?"

"Nope. But I like your shirt. What blue is that?"

"I think it's called cyan."

Qrow raises an eyebrow, and he catches one girl's eyes. Almost immediately, she looks down, eyes shut and mouth moving in a continuous stream of  _please don't come near me please don't come near me_. The other girl in front of her clutches her arms and tries to coax her to opening her eyes.

Qrow turns his head towards Tai, who looks at him, and he jerks his head towards the direction of the two girls. Tai raises an eyebrow, "What?"

"They can see colour."

Summer, who's been walking behind them, pulls his cape backwards and he lets out a strangled sound.  _Save the strength for the fight, Summer._ Before he could say that, she whips him around, sticks her face in front of his and demands, " _What_? Did you just say they see colour?"

He rubs his neck. "They see blue, at least."

As one unit, all four of them turn to the pair. There are other people in the room, but most were busy discussing strategies and what Dust they should load in. Slowly, Summer walks forward first, hands out like she's circling a deadly Taijitu. The girls notice her, and they visibly jolt at her closeness.

"Why're they scared?" Qrow murmurs.

"Summer's pretty intimidating," Tai replies.

Raven scoffs. "To an ant, maybe."

Qrow chuckles and keeps his eyes on the girls. They turn around now, fully facing Summer. They're trembling, and they both look like deers caught in headlights. They look like they want to bolt out of here, but that would look even more suspicious. He narrows his eyes as one hand slide down the other's arm before intertwining their fingers in a tight grip.  _Huh_. He forgot about the soulmate part.

Summer notices it too, but keeps her eyes on theirs. "Hey. I'm Summer."

They stay quiet.

After a while, Qrow walks forward, breaking the silence. "I'm Qrow. This is Tai and Raven."

Still, nothing.

Summer looks back at him, and he holds her eyes before sighing. He takes another step forward, hand in pockets. "We overheard you talking about colours. We–"

At that, they burst, talking over each other, with the urgency of a mother whose child is being taken away.

"Please don't tell anyone.  _Please_. They don't know about us. They don't know about us having colour, and-and if they did–"

"Hey," Summer she says it so quietly, they quiet down and stare. Qrow always wonder how she has that effect. She offers an assuring smile. "We won't tell anyone. Promise. What I really came here for is...how would you describe the colour silver?"

"Silver?" They look at each other, then the one with the apparently cyan shirt speaks. "Silver. Well...think of grey. But...metallicy, sort of. It's the colour of...hey, your eyes. They're silver."

"I know," she says, voice low. "That's why I want to know."

"Oh. Um. Well, it's a real pretty colour. A lot of people in Atlas wear it."

"Is that why people say silver-tongue? Do they wear it on tongues?"

"Um...sometimes? But it's not, like, a cloth or anything. It's more jewellery. A piercing. Or a ring."

Behind Qrow, Raven sighs and mutters. "As interesting as this is, we should be preparing for the fight."

"She's right," Tai nods. "Why don't we keep in contact, you two? I'm sure Summer has a lot more questions." He looks pointedly at her.

"Definitely. Please?"

One of them speaks, "You promise you won't tell anyone?"

"We promise."

Nodding, Cyan girl turns to Not-Cyan girl. "Maybe you can give them your number. I don't have my Scroll. I left it in the green bag–" she swiftly as she hears Summer gasp. "Sorry. It's...a habit. It's easier to say what colour it is. Easier than, you know, describing the bag itself."

"I get it. Except I don't. But I get it. It's...cool."

As they continue to the prep room, Qrow wonders out loud. "Who's 'they'?"

"Huh?"

He looks at Tai and shrugs, "They just seemed awfully nervous about 'them' finding out about their colour vision."

"Or maybe 'they' won't like that they're soulmates."

Qrow turns to Raven and lifts his eyebrow. "You may be in black and white, sis, but don't be so old-fashioned. That's way over now."

"I'm just saying."

They stay quiet for a while, and Qrow shifts his gears. There's no way he's going out there with anything but victory in his mind. They're about to fight for a spot in the tournament, and they sure as hell aren't walking away without one. He's sure they'll win, but he's just...well, certainty is rarely in his vocabulary. And when it is, he uses it with caution and in moderation. Even then, he still looks around - just to make sure.

"Team STRQ." The PA crackles. "Please make your way to the stadium. Team STRQ."

Tai punches his fists together. "Let's do this."

* * *

A week later, Qrow looks up at the small TV as he swirls his iced vodka. A fight between an Atlas team and a Haven team is taking place. He whistles as a Haven boy punches the ground, and the whole stadium shakes, little fissures in the ground forming. He can see the audience holding on to the railings and each other as they wobble in their seats. The camera catches the sun's glare before turning back to the fight.

"Sure packs a punch," he says before turning to Summer. "You're not gonna drink that, are you?"

"Why not?"

He stays quiet.

Summer lightly punches him in the shoulder. "Fine, okay, that night was reckless. But this, this is just a social drink with friends. I'm not going to drink it all in one go."

"I'll make sure of that. Come on, Tai. I drag you out here to celebrate our semi-final victory and you're not even drinking."

Tai nurses his first beer ever. "This tastes like piss."

Qrow laughs, "Yeah, that's beer. Looks, smells and tastes of urine."

"You'd know, wouldn't you?"

He just smiles and holds up his glass, says, "Duh.", and drinks.

"Where's Raven, by the way?" Tai, trying to vainly look around casually, like he  _just_  noticed Raven's absence after thirty minutes of piss poor - he chuckles to himself - celebrations. He gulps down half of his glass in one swallow.

"Said she wanted to sleep," Summer tells him before she takes her final sip. "I do too, actually. So."

She begins to take money out of her pocket when Qrow stops her. "Hey. No. This one's on me. You saved my ass out there. We could've lost if you hadn't shot at the guy. I owe you."

"It was–"

"It wasn't nothing," Qrow interrupts.

Tai bravely takes one last swig of the beer before slamming it on the bar. "That's an awful, awful drink." He slides out of the stool and faces Summer. "I'll walk you to the dorm."

"Are you going somewhere else?"

"Well...no."

She snorts. "Smooth."

Qrow turns in his own stool, waving them off. "Get outta my bar, you belittling dweebs. You disgraced it by not drinking your whole drink."

"We both know you'll finish it for us," Tai grins. "See you later."

"You'll be okay?" The question comes from Summer.

"Yeah. Should be. Thanks for the company."

As they walk out of the bar, Qrow turns back around. It's a different Atlas team this time, but they seem to be no different to the other teams he watched the past few days. He watches the anticipation, the waiting. Sure, that's a fair play, but the audience wants to see action. Not some cat-and-mouse show. As he keeps watching - there's nothing else on - he predicts at least five of the moves they made. He counts them off. One. Wait for that guy to run across. Two. Hit the tree, shake him off. Three. The girl will distract that guy so that other guy can take out that guy. Four. She'll use the geyser to catapult herself to her teammate. Five–

"Do you always watch fights so intently?"

He raises an eyebrow at the bartender. "There's nothing else to watch."

"Oh. Right. Well, what do you think of them?"

"Stiff. Strategic. Boring."

"What qualifies you to make that judgement?"

He laughs and takes another gulp. He wants to brag, just a bit, but that wouldn't be the etiquette of a Vytal tournament winner. Instead, he finishes his drink. He turns around, determined to remain smug and smirky. But he just stops. Just... _stops_. He's more jarred, actually. Unable to move. Because his world just got a whole lot brighter. And it wasn't because the sun is in the room.

_What luck._

* * *

**A/N: Hey! So, this one's a bit different. It can be read as one shot, but it can also act as a prequel to the next chapter, which will be Qrow and whoever just came in that last scene. I'd also like to thank everyone for the warm welcome as I try and figure out AO3. The comments are soso appreciated and loved. Thanks for reading!**


	3. Amber

"Your form is good, Amber, but you need to learn to exert yourself. Force your presence to be felt on the battlefield. You need to let your opponent know you are not one to be taken lightly  _and_ , should they choose to challenge it, will be met with an immovable wall that will bring them to their knees."

All she can really do is nod when her professor starts going on motivational-and borderline scary-speeches. He sounds more like he's dictating his army bible to lieutenants in a camp rather than mentoring a student. He swings his greatsword up to his shoulder and nods pointedly.

"You're done for the day," he tells her. "Send Icarus Virto in. I'll see you tomorrow. Make sure you train on your own time. Is that clear?."

"Yes, sir."

She grips her staff at the centre, and it retracts itself into a more manageable size. Sweat sheening on her forehead, she hoists her duffel bag up to her shoulder, neatly stores her staff inside, before striding across the gym to the exit. She's already thinking what to get for dinner, but then again, the options are currently limited in Haven Academy. She gives the head chef's stupidity one long curse in her head as she pushes the doors open. Bracing herself against the winter air, she immediately spots Icarus in the courtyard, already working up a sweat swiping the air with his triple-forked boomerang.

"Icarus!"

He always had the look of a prince, she thinks as he turns, regal and tall. His mane is too pale to be classed grey, but too dark to be called white. His eyes, she knows from his parents, are what they call blue. His well-sculpted body and arms make him all of the girls' first love, but being friends since they were in hospital cribs made Amber uninfluenced. He walks over, and Amber cranes her head up to meet his eyes.

"How was training?"

Amber gruffs her voice, stiffening her arms near her hips. "Ra, ra, ra," she booms. "You must destroy everything on the battlefield, ra, ra, ra!"

Icarus laughs as he shoulders his backpack. "Typical. I told you, he's one of the best huntsman in the kingdom. He knows what he's saying."

"Oh, I don't doubt it. Hunting up souls and happiness is probably one of his hobbies as well."

He shakes his head in amusement, and ruffles Amber's hair to her disgust. "I should go," he says after easily avoiding a kick on the shin. "I'll see you back at the dorms, then?"

"For your  _funeral_!"

"Iris has really grown on you, hasn't she? You're almost as good as her insults."

Amber grins. "Does that mean I insulted you?"

"No."

It turns into a pout. "Aw."

"You tried though." His hand reaches for the top of her head again, but she swats it away.

"Shoo."

Dramatically, eyes big, Icarus holds his heart and falls a step back. "But, my love! Thou–"

"Icarus!"

Laughter dies as quickly as ice in a desert when Professor Trey shouts from the gym doors.

"Are you making me wait for you? Get  _in_  here!"

He shouts, "Yes, sir!" before turning to Amber. "See you back at the dorms."

"Good luck!" she laughs behind him as he bolts. "You're on his naughty list!"

* * *

Winter calls for cuddles and soft sweaters and hot chocolate. Not that any of the three couldn't be done with other seasons, she muses, but winter is absolute  _prime_. She looks out the window, snug in her jacket with both hands cup around a mug that said "It's Vytal You Attend" in the middle. The snow, glitteringly blinding and beautiful, padded the courtyard. The small cluster of bushes are peppered with white like icing. In an hour, the gardeners would start to clear it, and classes will start as usual. She's lived in Haven for over 3 years, but she likes waking up early to see mother nature work its wonders.

She spots a cardinal, its gray wings lined with black, as it lands on one of the lamppost. She sees it opens it beak, but the window prevents her from hearing its songs. It isn't enough to keep her from feeling the chilly air though, she bitterly thinks. She takes a sip, and hisses just a little when she underestimates how hot the drink was. She takes another, more carefully this time, and enjoys the warm feeling travel down to her stomach. She turns her head when she hears movement behind her.

Icarus' head pops up from under his blanket. "Morning," he gruffs.

She waves, not wanting to disturb the other two. She takes one last look outside, and sees the cardinal joined by its family. They look like they're singing for their breakfast, cute and fluffy. She smiles, takes a mental photograph, sips, and stretches before beginning to start her day.

* * *

She stands with her team in the Great Hall, yawning as dredges of sleep still hang in her eyes. The rest of the academy are here as well, and some are already fluffing up their backpacks to use as pillows as they lay on the floor. Mindless chatter buzz through the room, talking about what could possibly be so important that Professor Lionheart called for them at an ungodly hour. Ungodly for the students, she muses, since the staff in the room look to be more or less attentive. Probably driven by caffeine and their lust for students' tears.

"What is this whole thing, anyway?"

Amber shrugs at Iris, her team leader. All she knows is that the PA crackled in the middle of a dream, announcing all students to make their way to the Great Hall. Pajamas are accepted.

So here she is.

Icarus, with nothing but pants on, leans against the wall with his arms crossed. "They should've at least provided breakfast. I'm hearing at least ten stomachs rumbling in here."

"That's because they're hungry for  _you_ , hotshot."

He grins at Iris, who moved to sit next to Riley, the final piece of puzzle IXIA. "Oh, yeah?"

He looks around, and Amber snorts as she hears small gasps around her, followed by bouts of girly giggles of delight. She may be the target practice of most girls' knives and arrows (since, you know,  _she_  can hug Icarus whenever she wants if she so chooses and  _they_  can't), but she can still appreciate the reactions.

"Students."

A blanket of silence falls over the room as Professor Lionheart steps up to the microphone. Amber always thought of him as a cuddly grandpa, with graying hair, the round figure, and the tendency to always have a full cookie jar in his office. He takes care of his staff and students, and he makes sure that he's involved in most school curricular activities, which is more than she can say about the other academies. Except, she thinks, probably Vale.

"I apologise for waking you up this early," he continues. "But I hope I can make it up to you. I'll only be taking half an hour, or so, then the staff will be lining the hall with serving tables and breakfast. Coffee, sugar and tea also included."

Murmurs of delight and salivating mouths sounded through the room, Amber's included. But it's quickly dropped when Lionheart simply raises a hand.

"Thank you. Now, the reason I've brought you here this morning is that I've been given information about the Vytal tournament occurring this year. Unfortunately, we are not the hosts this year," he continues through the excited sounds and conversation, "but as an academy, we will give Vale our total support and lend a hand, if needed, in running the event. As is tradition, there will be no limitations as to who can enter, but this year, you will have an opportunity to drop out whenever you and your team deem it necessary. Your teachers will be helping you over the next month before we need the names of the participating teams."

"Remember, this tournament is simply a fun event for you to show the audience that you are to be trusted with their lives. You are Hunstmen and Huntresses. You work to protect..."

As Lionheart carries on about duty and life, Icarus mumbles to his team, "How're they giving us food? Didn't the head chef infect everything?"

"They wouldn't serve us bad food," Amber says. She raises her eyebrows at Iris' poorly masked chuckle. "Would they?"

"Can't know until we eat it."

Amber shakes her head to fight a shiver. She refuses to believe an academy as prestigious as Haven would allow its students to come down with a bad case of stomach virus.

Luckily, Icarus changes the topic. "We should get started in strategies."

"Agreed," Iris says. "Let's brainstorm in our room after we get breakfast. At least they told us at the beginning of the weekend."

Amber shifts closer to the group. "I know most things about the landscapes of the arena. We can work out strengths and weaknesses there, too."

"Great," Iris nods before quickly turning to Riley. "What is it, babe?"

Riley's hands move fast, and Amber can barely make out the words. Iris, on the other hand, reads them perfectly. "Good idea," she beams. "She said we can ask her father if we want any upgrades or changes to our weapons."

"Thanks, Riley." Icarus smiles, pure affection. "That'll definitely help."

"...teachers to escort the students out for a few minutes while we get the tables set up."

The student body move as one towards the door, and soon the – thankfully – wide hallways outside the Great Hall are lined with students still in their pajamas and fuzzy bed hair. Voices hum over the sound of yawns, and most of it include talk about the tournament. What to wear, who they'll meet. However, there is a resounding question that Amber picks out as her team walks through the throng of bodies.

Will they get colour?

"Give us two minutes, guys," one of the professors calls out from the hall before closing the doors.

Amber finds her team a spot, just underneath one of the windows. As she looks out of it, she realises it's early enough for both the shattered moon and the sun to coexist in the sky. But despite the low light, she sees the market already busting with life and movement. Vendors are beginning to stock their stalls, and the kids they brought with them are already playing tag.

"The market's open already," she comments as she rejoins her team. "Maybe they got fresh foods from there."

"Fresh foods aren't going to disinfect the kitchen," Icarus informs her.

She shrugs, settling on the floor next to Riley. She gives her teammate a friendly shoulder bump, and is rewarded with a tentative smile.

"Where's Iris?"

Riley points towards a group of students, who Amber recognises as several team leaders. "Oh. They must be discussing schedules already. They move fast, huh?"

The girl nods, and the two of them sit quietly together as they wait for breakfast. Amber really wants to rest her eyes, even for just a minute, but Riley pushes her sketchbook onto her lap.

"What's this? Oh!"

The page is entitled "Colours" and there are spots littered around, with what Amber assumes are their names next to them. She knows the names of her primary colours, and some secondary ones. But the tertiary colours knock her eyes off; she can't imagine having a darker type of blue, or red. Would they have black around them? Or  _mixed_ , whatever that looks like?

"You're lucky, Riley." Amber speaks solemnly as she studies the page. What the hell is  _scarlet_? "You and Iris, I mean. You're both so lucky."

Riley signs.  _I know_.

"I never actually asked. How was it when you guys met?"

She can see Riley's eyes light up. She begins to sign,  _very_  quickly, that Amber couldn't keep up. She guesses Riley saw that, since she stops, and takes back her sketchpad and begins to write.

"Sorry. I'm still new at the whole thing."

Riley shakes her head, as if saying  _don't worry_  and keeps writing. Amber decides to read over her shoulder. Like her hands, she's a fast writer with enviously neat penmanship.  _Her_  own writing looks like a caveman learning to hold a pen.

"So it just...changes?" Amber asks. "When you blink, you just suddenly have colour. Wouldn't that be slightly overwhelming?"

Riley chuckles silently, and nods. She writes again, and Amber laughs.

"No way.  _Iris_  nearly fainted? I wish I could've seen that!"

As if summoned, Iris returns just as Amber breaks out in more laughter. "What's the joke?" she demands.

Smiling, Riley puts down her pen and signs.

Amber could read that, at least.  _You, my darling._

"What about me?"

"How you nearly fainted when you and Riley met."

"Well, yeah. Who wouldn't nearly faint when they see an angel? And a fucking gorgeous one at that."

Amber grins as Riley blushes furiously. "That's sweet."

"Just for her." In response to the blushing, Iris kisses Riley, and they smile at each other and Amber forces herself to ignore the pang of jealousy and keeps her own smile in place.

There's nothing wrong with wanting love, she thinks. It's perfectly acceptable to envy two people mad and crazy for each other. She wants someone to call her an angel, and someone to come home to after a long day. She wants to care, and be taken care of. She wants a future where she can argue with her best friend about bedsheets and pillows and furniture.

She wants a forever.

The world in colour, to her at least, is just a bonus.

* * *

Months fly by, and the trees are beginning to make their transition from bare to decorated. The sky is decorated with clouds, and the promise of life hung onto the branches of the trees. She could very well see that the flowers wanted to smile and pop, and Amber figures the light drizzle was helping it along. A showpiece of the craft of gardening, she thinks. The growing volume students' voices fill the courtyard. The staff are beginning to count heads and write down names and numbers. Professor Lionheart himself is standing near the gate, smiling so proudly. Amber watches him mumble something to another professor, who laughs heartily.

"We ready?"

She turns back to her team as Icarus offers her a cookie. She accepts, and nibbles into it as she hums her approval. "Who made these?"

Icarus bites into a cookie of his own. "I did."

"Pepper's recipe?" she asks, referring to his mother.

"Yep."

Riley crunches into hers, her eyes widening. She signs with her free hand.

A shadow falls over Icarus' face. "I should really learn," he mutters guiltily.

Iris steps in. "She said it's really good."

"Oh." Light is restored, and his bright grin reflects it. "You can have as many as you want."

"Thanks–"

"To Riley, Iris, not you."

"And me." To prove it, Amber nimbly picks another cookie.

"Alright, everyone," Professor Lionheart booms near the gates. "Your airships are here. I wish you well, and the very best of luck. I'm sure I speak for the staff and myself that we'll be cheering you on from the staffroom!"

Icarus stores his cookies in his backpack, but not before offering Riley another one. Iris rolls her eyes, and Amber simply smiles. She picks up her duffel bag, and as a unit, begin to make their way to the gates.

"Let's get a spot near the exit," Icarus says, "so we don't have to wait too long to get out when we get there."

"Good call."

* * *

Busy can't even cover what Amber and her team become the moment they arrive in Vale. The plaza they pass is glittering with jewels and Dust sales. Tables are decorated with such eye-appealing food that Amber already spent a few Lien just to try some, much to her team's chagrin. They pass through other stalls, joining in the  _oooh's_  and  _ahhh's_  of other tourists. They make their way to Beacon Academy, a looming castle presiding over the kingdom. There, Amber already recognises students from different parts of the world.

Atlas, with their posh, dull uniform.

Shade, carefree and seemingly friendly.

Vale, welcoming.

"We're Room 249," Iris announces after talking with one of Beacon's representatives. "East Wing, they said."

"I'd get so turned around here," Amber mumbles as they move through the entrance and against the flow of people in the hallway.

"You'd get turned around in your own house."

Amber shoots Icarus a withering look over her shoulder. "Shut up."

* * *

"I call this bed."

"Why do you get the window bed?"

"Because I'm the leader. And I'm going to move that bed closer–"

"But I wanted that bed–"

"For Riley."

"Oh, okay."

"Amber, where do you want to sleep?"

"It's just a bed. I figure we'll be spending more time out of it than in it."

"Fine. I'll take this one, you can take that one. Cool?"

"Mm-hmm."

* * *

Over the angry roar of battle, a nearby geyser erupts acrid smog and shards - hardly a distraction for either teams as they bobbed and weaved through a barrage of ammunition. Metal met metal, skin slid on skin, and Team IXIA could already taste victory as they hear the first, satisfying buzzer. Focused and relentless, Riley slides under a crag and lets loose three arrows - sticks of instant pain from her hands - whistling across the plateau towards her target. It flies past Amber, who was doing work on her own opponent. Miro, if she remembers correctly.

Trusty staff locked in the crevice of dual swords, Amber swings her leg to stumble her opponent. She looks down with a smirk.

"How's the view?"

"You tell me."

She should've seen it coming, but she reacts a second too late before a hard knee sends her stomach into prickling pain. She feels her aura immediately working to fix it, and she spins her staff to propel her backwards, bending at her waist to quickly catch her breath. That's what she gets for taking a page out of Icarus' book, she huffs. She straightens up and sees Miro, already on his feet, charging in with fists and a battle cry.

A metal boomerang spins into view, just for a second, before a loud  _twang_ punctuates Miro's fall. His plated armour barely prevents his face from hitting the ground, but Amber swings her staff right into it, sending him flying off the platform and out of the match.

"Ouch! Miro's going to need a facial after that. Things aren't looking good for team CRME- can they pull back with two down?"

She sends Icarus a thumbs up, and dutily rolls her eyes when Icarus tips his metaphoric hat. She runs to the others, with him close behind. She assesses the scene: Iris was trying to whittle down the giant with quick and short attacks, but the other guy-Chester?-was giving her a hard time with his own attacks. Ignoring the sweat pouring from her forehead, Amber looks up when a shadow falls over her. She makes out Icarus' figure, with Riley on his back, her bow drawn. A column of hot lava and a loud groan mesh together, and Amber turns back to see an arrow impaling the giant's shoulder.

"Good shot, Riley!" Icarus whoops as they land near Amber. Riley jumps off him, and he sprints forward just as Iris starts running. Her eyes trained on the duo, Amber walks over to Riley.

"You doing okay?" She gets a bright smile and a thumbs up.

They watch as Iris uses Icarus as a springboard for a flying roundhouse kick, sending the stumbling giant head first into the barrier between the platform and the audience.

"Wow! I could feel that all the way from the booth, Port! That's 3 down. What can Chester do?"

"We can go easy on you, if you want." Iris shoulders her halberd, a shit-eating grin on her face, as IXIA slowly looms towards the trembling figure. "But that's really just denying the inevitable."

Icarus laughs from above, an angel of death, before landing right behind Esthan. Amber sees he was about to end it all, before the boy runs as if the Grimm were a hair behind him. He doesn't get far, since Riley aims for his ankle and dwindles his aura to its lowest point. Iris and Amber share a look, and they unsheath their weapons, spinning it in and around their fingers before simultaneously swinging their way to the last buzzer and the massive applause from the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen, that is all she wrote! Team IXIA is powering through their bracket with their impressive display of prowess!"

* * *

She stirs awake, and the scent of waffles and honey greet her. She can feel the morning sun on her cheek, the soft, caressing wind in her tussled hair. Sleep wouldn't let her open her eyes just yet, and she can hear the low morning chatter of her team. It can't be too early, she thinks. Icarus would be throwing a fit if it was. She opens her eyes to slits, and she recognises them sitting around the small, round table.

"Iris," Icarus was saying, "it's too early. Food first. Amber isn't even awake yet."

"We need to talk about-don't look at me like that, babe-we need to talk strategies. This is an Atlas team, I'll bet everything they watched all of our matches."

"Sure, but it doesn't mean they'll figure out a way to counter it. Look." He pauses to shovel in a forkful of waffles. "Just take a minute, eat, and we can talk about it when Amber gets up."

"She won't wake up for another hour, you know that."

"Exactly why." He punctuates this with a burp.

"Disgusting. Why do girls like you?"

"Because I'm great."

Her eyes shut, Amber smiles when she hears Iris snort. This team, she thinks, is her second family. There's not much she wouldn't do to keep them from harm's way. But, she muses, there's also not much she won't do to continue the banter between her team leader and childhood friend. So as normal siblings do, she decides to pick a side and throw off her blanket.

"Amber." Iris raises her eyebrows in surprise, but very slowly turns to Icarus to give him a slow, sly smile. "She's up."

"She shouldn't be." Icarus frowns. "Why're you up?"

"I smelled waffles," Amber answers as she sits. "I like waffles."

He swears under his breath. "Should've covered the plate."

"Can we talk strategies now?"

It's posed as a rhetorical question, but he responds anyway. "Not like we can stop you."

Armed with forks and waffles, the team spend the morning discussing new game plans, with Icarus often playing devil's advocate. What if this, what if that. Then we do this, and we'll do that. As she bites into the last of her breakfast, Amber studies Iris over the rim of her glass. The girl knows how to fight, she thinks, but she still needs to learn the victor will still be whoever steps up on the day, no matter the preparations made beforehand. It's not that she's doubting her team, but Amber is a firm believer in fun and relaxation.

Which she plans to implement as soon as their match is over.

"What're your plans before the match?" Amber whispers to Riley as the other two continued to discuss team attacks.

She signs, thankfully slow, that she and Iris were going to watch some fights. She returns the question.

"I just wanted to sightsee," she answers. "Not...exactly sure where yet."

She earns a chuckle, and the other two turn towards them. "Have you guys been paying attention?" Iris demands.

"Yes?"

"Is that a question or an answer?"

Amber hates it when she goes passive-aggressive. "Maybe?"

The team leader throws her hands up in the air. "Just...just win. We won three so far. Let's just win this, and we'll earn a spot in the semis." The other three nod, and Amber smiles sweetly.

"That we can do for you."

* * *

Amber might as well have had 'IMPULSE BUYER' stamped on her forehead as she goes through numerous stalls littered around the plaza like strategic outposts in a battlefield. She tries her best, but it isn't quite good enough to resist buying a cute shirt and a hat to match. The guy selling it said it was orange, and it matched her. She fleetingly believed him at the time, so she bought it, and regretted it five minutes later. Determined to enjoy the day, she surges on, right onto the pier and looked out the vast ocean. It's gentle today, she notices, the waves barely kicking up a fuss as fishermen continued to cast out their nets. She spots a dog on a boat, its tongue lolling out of its mouth, flying in the wind like a rag. Then it jumps off, and she gasps as he surfaces with a fish, clearly surprised as she was, in its mouth.

A treasure, dogs are.

She continues down the docks, loving the atmosphere, the bright day and the crowds watching both the boatmen and the showboats. The ocean has nothing on the sound and feel of the running waterfalls in Mistral, but it was still pleasantly magical. The sky was cloudless, a blank slate, and the birds were circling overhead. This made the protective mothers to pull their children close, and the not-so-protective ones to laugh when the birds showed their opinion.

"Sweetie, your icecream is melting."

"No, it's not! Watch!"

She passes a bar-if you could call it that-and pauses. It looks more like a garage that was hastily made into a bar to earn some quick money. The walls are decorated with Vytal Tournament posters, with last year's winners grinning in silly poses. Her eyes follow the walls to the racks of alcohol behind the bartender methodically polishing the glassware. To his right, a small ancient-looking TV hangs from the back wall. The stools lining the front bar look rickety, one of them barely supporting the lone man that slumped on it. She assumes the man smells as bad as the rest of the place.

The man from the bar drawls out, "There's nothing else to watch."

The bartender chuckles uneasily before grabbing another glass to polish. "Oh. Right. Well, what do you think of them?"

"Stiff. Strategic. Boring."

It's a beautiful world, she thinks, in its entire black and white filter. But something that man said irked something in her, and without thinking, she calls out, "What qualifies you to make that judgement?"

She hears a laugh that shot straight to her stomach. It was throaty, as if he just woke up, with a hint of misled cockiness. It's followed by a  _clunk,_ cheap glass hitting wood, and the man turns. They lock eyes, and the commentators from the TV become static, white noise. Amber stares and stares and realises she hasn't blinked in over a minute. Neither has he, actually.

It wasn't like Riley and Iris, she thinks. No way.

Shocked to numbness, she lets it happen. Her vision changes slowly, like a stain on a cloth, the black and white fading, replaced by something so bright and unbelievably pretty. Not a stain, she corrects herself, but like paint dripping and spreading on paper. It's art in its purest form, and her world was the canvas. It's new and saturated and she feels like she could stare at this bar all day. But her eyes are trained on the man who now looks ghostly pale, and she could all but see his teeth grinding together.

She could see that with deliberate effort, the man relaxes and pulls out a hip flask from his pocket.

"Looks like we have a problem, huh?"

Amber is struck dumb and for a moment she thinks the paint stopped dripping. "A problem?" she manages.

He doesn't say anything, instead turning back to face the confused bartender. He swirls his flask before downright chugging most of its contents. He slides it forward, "Wanna fill that up for me, pal?"

Almost sheepishly, the bartender uncorks a bottle and pours it in, his eyes concentrated on nothing but the flow of liquid. Amber steps forward, half-expecting the floor to light up as she moves. This is a new world, after all. "What do you mean by a  _problem_?"

Instead of giving an answer, the man picks up the flask and slugs it back. He runs his fingers through his hair, more nerves than smugness, and finally faces Amber. She recognises him as one of the Beacon students that Iris was studying yesterday, but his name escapes her. He had such a disheartened look on his face, and it was all she could do to step forward and smooth it away. They look at each other, and she feels that quick spark, electrifying her blood, her heart drumming in her chest.

"I'm Qrow," he says.

"I'm-"

"not supposed to exist. I don't want you to exist."

The paint dried, crumbled and fell off like chips. She couldn't cry. She  _wouldn't_ cry. Not over someone she doesn't even know. But Gods, she didn't know this type of pain could exist.

"Amber," he says her name, his voice distant and colder than ice. "You should leave."

Biting the inside of her cheek so hard it hurt, she stands her ground. "No."

"I can't make you happy. Don't even bother. Just go."

Her eyes and nerves made of absolute bravado, she walks forward and kisses him. Demanding her heart to stop shooting fireworks underneath her eyelids, the kiss is jagged, almost bruising. It feels exactly like what he looks like, a rogue pirate, tough around the edges, but soft, so soft, underneath. He kisses her back, with a plea instead of a demand. His hands cup her jaw, and they ease back.

"Go," he whispers, desperate. His hands, however, say otherwise. They hold still, as if he doesn't know whether to push her away or to keep her close.

"I'm going." She waits until his eyes stop shaking to look at hers. "But not because you told me to, but because I have a match to attend. I'll find you. We're not done, Qrow."

She strides away, her false bravado threatening to break before she could turn the corner. Then she dry heaves, bending at the waist, her hands bracing themselves on her knees. Everything seemed so bright, so unbearably fluorescent she had to close her eyes so her system can catch up. The seagulls seem to now wield megaphones and squawked into them, and the pungent smell of trash seemed to waft all the way from the other side of the building. She can taste blood in her mouth from when she bit her cheek. Her heart was weighed down by dread and a speck of despair, but she resists. Straightening up, she forces herself to feel better and, very stoically, fast-walk her way back to her team.

* * *

"Your ex?"

"In what world do you live in where exes introduce themselves to each other? Don't answer that. No, she's not my ex. I knew her name because I watched one of their matches." He pushes off the stool and throws Lien onto the bar, not bothering to see how much it was.

"She's my fucking soulmate."

* * *

She needs to get her act together now if she wanted her team to have a fighting chance against this Atlas firing squad.

"Amber! What the hell are you doing?" This came from Iris, who was picking herself up from a tussle with a sand dune.

Gritting her teeth, Amber shoots blindly towards a target. It misses, obviously, but it gives her time to dust the sand off her clothes and sticky skin. Using her staff as support, she pulls herself up, and closes her eyes. It's too much, she hissed. Too much at once. The colour, the sand, the small particles of Dust flying around and the very healthy-looking forest on the opponent's side make her just want to lean against a trunk and rest.

Blessedly, Riley jumps to her side, signing, asking if she was okay. She nods, but she reaches down and picks up a handful of sand before they're blown away by the soft wind. "What colour is this?"

Riley raises her eyebrows, but she signs it.

"I...don't know what that means."

Thinking quickly before the other two get pummeled into mush, Riley uses a finger to write on the sand.  _Brown_.

"Brown. It's a nice colour."

Now Riley's eyes bulge, and her mouth drops. She signs.

"Yeah," Amber responds grimly. "I'm so out of it. Everything's so  _in your face_ , you know? I couldn't tell you guys earlier since they were already pushing us out to the platform and everyone was so focused. I'll do better now, I promise."

To prove it, she leaps away from Riley and into the fight, sand bellowing around her as she lands. She locks eyes with Icarus, steel meets hard steel, before she lunges forward with her staff, teeth bared and ready. Driven by sheer willpower, she runs, attacks one at random. Blocked by a greatsword from her left, she swings her staff around for another angle, and is rejected again. She crouches, turning and sweeping her foot, throwing her opponent off balance before she kicks sand up into his eyes. With a cry, he falls and she wields her staff like a javelin, preparing to launch him off.

She gets hit from behind,in between the shoulders, then the top of her head, and the colours disappear into a void.

* * *

She crawls her way towards the light, every effort a furiously small victory. She surfaces and hears noises she could barely classify as conversations, though she could only hear one side. She doesn't even try to listen and instead croaks out, "Water."

Icarus waves his Scroll shut and rushes to bring her a bottle. "Stay down," he warns her when she moves to sit up. "I got a straw."

Grateful, Amber circles his wrist with her fingers, steadying each other as she sips. The water feels like salvation in her mouth. Slowly, she starts to piece her day back together. She was out on a walk at the docks. Then she–

"I got colour," she tells him.

He smiles, "I know. Riley told us. Congratulations."

"Riley. Where are they?"

"Getting some food. We decided we'll sit in here for the night, watch the matches on the projector."

Something in his tone alarms her. "Did...did we win?"

Though his smile remains, his eyes turns sad. "Not quite. We all got pretty angry when you got knocked out. Not at you, of course, but we started making rash decisions. Riley was out next, then Iris. At that point I kinda jumped too high, hit the barrier and knocked myself out cold. It was...an unfortunate series of events."

She doesn't feel sad, not really. This just means she can enjoy the rest of the tournament from the sidelines. But she does feel a twinge of guilt for starting the snowball that turned into an avalanche, and all the effort her team went through in training only to be knocked out so quickly. And when her mind thought of Iris, guilt married fear. "Is she mad?"

Icarus didn't have to be told who she was referring to. "No. You have Riley to thank for that."

Bless that girl. "Okay."

The night is quiet, she thinks. No crickets or birds, and no singing wind to ruffle leaves and grass. The vague smell of sea salt teased her, and she remembers her lovely day at the docks. Without a word, she reaches for the bottle again, sips and the last dredges of a drumming headache passes. The moon's light barely shifted through the window, shadows trailing through the dark. Just how long was she out, she wonders. Their match was more or less in the middle of the day, and it looks to be the middle of the night.

"So who is it?"

"Who is what?"

Icarus rolls his eyes before taking a drink from the bottle. "The colour guy."

"Oh." She bares her teeth. "Qrow."

"The guy from the Beacon team?"

"Yeah." She sits up now, gingerly. She pulls her knees up, resting her chin on top of them just as Icarus settles against the wall. "You know him?"

"Qrow Branwen," he tells her. "He's from Team STRQ, and one of his teammate's his sister. According to Iris, he wields a scythe slash shotgun slash sword."

"Lethal."

"So is he. Iris said he's probably the biggest threat in the team. Didn't look like the smiling, romantic type you'd go for though."

"You know my type?" she laughs.

"Sure," he grins. "You go for the type that would give you a bouquet of roses instead of a bouquet of barbecue sticks."

"But I like barbecue."

"You like flowers more though."

"Okay, I do." She returns the grin. "Why didn't we ever date?"

"Because we're family."

Family, she thinks during dinner. That's what they all were, and family stuck through everything.

There was no talk about the loss, and Iris gave her a smile, signalling understanding and acceptance. Her partner ate ravenously, and Icarus comments on it. Amber watches as Riley blushes, and Icarus stutters an apology and how he didn't mean it that way. Jokingly, Iris glares at him, and he retreats like a wolf with its tail between its legs. They talk about Qrow, and Amber tells the story. She accepts their outrage at Qrow's response, and waved off their sympathy when she told them she felt like she'd throw up.

"But you didn't," Icarus reminds her.

"Barely."

"So what're you gonna do now?" Iris asks her.

"Well, I told him I'd find him. So I will, and we'll talk."

"You're not taking no for an answer, are you?"

Amber smiles thinly. "That's not even in my vocabulary."

* * *

She decides to expand her vocabulary the next day, equipping it with colour names and their textbook descriptions. With the help of Iris and Riley, she learns quickly, already calling out colours she sees and getting approval. She even revisits Riley's sketchbook, and gets her first eyeful of different shades of the primary colours.

"I didn't know you did this, babe. This looks all artsy and stuff. Cute."

Amber busies herself with each page, memorising everything she could. Cross-legged, she immerses herself in colour, every information as vital as the last. Hours pass before she realises Riley and Iris went out for lunch, and again minutes pass before she realises a shadow had fallen over her. She looks up, and she finds Qrow, his jaw covered in an appealing five o'clock shadow, staring down at her with his hands in his pockets.

"I thought you were the one that's supposed to find me."

Amber's heart reaches for the voice again, that dangerous, damn-it-all tone. It also yearns for his primitive appeal, like a pirate or a rogue. In defense, she stands, her latest textbook in hand, and meets his eyes. Red, she identifies, but not like those on paper. A tinge darker, and a hell of a lot more good-looking. "What're you doing here? You don't look like someone who likes to read."

"Because I don't." He jerks his head behind him. "Summer wanted to borrow some stuff, and she wanted me to come along."

Summer Rose, she notes, one of his teammates and his partner for the doubles round. She nods and not seeing the point of not being social, asks, "How-"

"I change my mind."

She arches an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I want to know you."

She decides to find romance in the little things when it comes to Qrow, and this, she suppose, is one of them. "Oh."

Clearly uncomfortable, he hunches over, shoving his hands deeper in his pockets. "I figured I should give it a chance. Since Summer told me I acted like a complete moron, I guess I should make up for it with dinner. That is...if you're free."

She smiles. "I am."

"Great." His lip twitches and he angles away. "I gotta go find Summer. I'll come by your dorm later?"

"How do you know where my dorm is?"

"I don't," he flashes a grin. "But all of you foreigners are like chickens in a coop. I'll find you," he nods before leaving Amber with a dreamy smile and distant eyes.

* * *

"Amber, you've been obsessing over this for hours. Just go."

"But does it give off the wrong message? I'm going for casual, not date-like."

"Look," Iris squeezes her temple. "Qrow sounds like the type of guy who doesn't notice what you're wearing. So, just go, have a good time, then recount everything over sexy breakfast pancakes."

"Fine. But should I–"

"Go!"

* * *

Qrow did notice, and she just stood there sheepishly as his eyes slowly raked her body from top to bottom. His grin told her he appreciated the view, but it could've been a better view if Iris wasn't hellbent on getting her out of their dorm. Now sitting across him at a pretty table above the docks, she could get over her regret of not dressing up and admire the man in front of her.

Phantom conversations run through her head, but nothing physically comes out. Out of sheer spite to not have an awkward first date, she asks, "So how're you guys going with the tournament?"

"Hm." Qrow plays with a fork. "Tai's starting to get a little too excited, Summer's trying to keep him focused, Raven could care less." He leans back and shrugs. "The usual."

"And Qrow?" She tilts her head. "How is he?"

"Oh." Almost sheepishly, Qrow scratches the back of his head. "I'm fine. Nursing a bruise from my last match, trying to keep everyone sane."

He scratches his chin, as if digging for more small talk. He straightens in his chair. "And, uh... how're you guys?"

"We're..." she thinks of the lack of vexation from her team, "okay. I expected Iris to blow out on me, and I couldn't really use you...us...colours...as an excuse for the loss. We–"

She cuts herself off as a waiter sidles up to their table, tray in one hand and towel draped over the other. She didn't think Qrow would want to go to fancy restaurants with fancy waiters that look borderline-snobby. But she puts on a smile, and looks up.

"Good evening," the waiter even had a snooty accent to match the turned-up nose. "I'm Gris and I'll be your waiter today. Have you had a chance to look at the menu?"

"I'll have whatever she's having," Qrow jerks his head.

"Oh. Do you eat seafood?"

"Yeah?"

"How about crabs?"

"Down there or..."

She gapes. "Qrow!"

The grin lightnings through her blood, bringing it to a sizzle. "Yes, Amber. I eat crabs."

"Okay." She looks up to the waiter, who looks like he just witnessed the murder of a designer bag. "We'll have the sauteed crabs, and a side of calamari and dip."

"Fine. And drinks?"

"Just water, please. Qrow?"

"Hard whiskey," he orders with the ease of a veteran. "Lemon on the rim. If the bartender argues, tell him I'll pay for the full bottle."

The waiter simply lifts an eyebrow at him before whisking away their menus. His sneer didn't go unnoticed to Qrow, which he'd rebut if it wasn't for Amber. Next time, boy-o, he thinks.

"Do you...drink a lot?"

"Here and there" he waves a hand. "You kinda need it for this line of work."

"I see." A shadow passes over her face, and Qrow immediately flips through their conversation in his head like an actor forgetting a line in a script. He drops the whole damn book when she asks: "So do you consider a date 'work'?"

Damn. Shit. Fuck. "No. I–I meant-" he takes a deep breath.

"No," he says more firmly. "Amber. Listen, if you want to make us...or whatever this is, work, then there's something about me you need to know. Several things, actually, but one of them stands out."

It didn't go past Amber that that's the most he's said in one go. "Okay?"

"I-"

Deciding this is the most opportune time, a baby's hungry scream pierced through the restaurant. It's followed by a meek  _sorry_  from the red-faced mother before she rummages through her bag for cookies.

"Babies are adorable," Amber comments, smiling, infuriatingly oblivious to the scream in Qrow's head. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

"I-"

Behind Qrow, a waiter holding a tray full of wine glasses trips on his own shoes, upending the tray over a woman's head. Amber gapes and stares as the woman stands, her hair already sticking together, and jabs a bruising finger at the waiter's chest. She roars insults, how  _dare_  he spill wine on her, and does he  _know_  how much that dress is. He'll know, damn right he will, before she whips out her phone for her lawyer.

"Some take fashion very seriously here, don't they?" Amber's face shows nothing but compassion and understanding. "It's kind of like the stories I hear from the Upper Areas in Mistral. They don't–and some younger generations have never–experienced poverty or be rejected of anything. So I don't expect them to demand anything but the best. It's almost sad how unexposed they are."

Love, simple and true, swims in Qrow's eyes. How does he, a murdering thief, pair up with someone almost–he knows too much of the world to say for certain–angelic? He knows he'll clip her wings and break her halo, but it feels like it will literally kill him if he doesn't try. Failure yaps at his feet like a hounding dog, but it got him this far, didn't it? Why can't he just push it a step farther? Is she worth the risk? Yes. Is her life worth the risk to love her? The answer clings to his throat and mind like bile, unable to form. He decides that it's not his decision, but hers.

"I did that," he claims.

"Did...what?"

"The baby crying. The guy and the wine shower. That was me."

"I...did you trip him?"

"No! No, I'm..." the floodgates open, "My semblance is misfortune, Amber. I can't control it, and it's always there. I hurt people close to me. I didn't want to hurt you. I still don't. But–"

Suddenly, Amber's eyes glow. Her brown eyes widen, and she white-knuckles the table cloth. A cry scratches its way out of her throat, and he bullets off his seat and kneels by her side. He clasps her hands in his, and it's cold as ice. People around them start ogling, but he could only focus on Amber. The murmurs become white noise, the taste of fear so tangible in his mouth. Her body arches back like a bow, and the eye-glow spreads to her arms, then legs then...everything. The glow burned his skin, but he holds on, bearing through the pain as he repeats her name, a prayer, a plea.

"Amber! Amber, can you hear me? You need to tell me what's wrong. Amber. Look at me."

Then the glow seems to seep into her body, and she falls unconscious onto the table. He was about to call her name again, but jolts when a strong hand clamps his shoulder. Immediately looking for a fight, he looks up and finds himself eye to eye with Beacon's headmaster.

"We can't cause a panic, Mr. Branwen. Will you help me bring Amber into my office?"

"What did I do?" Like a child begging to be forgiven, his eyes water as he pleads, "What did I fucking do?"

"Nothing you couldn't control, Mr. Branwen. Now–"

"I need to get out of here." As if it burned him, Qrow quickly drops Amber's limp hand. "I need to get away from her. I–"

"Qrow." Patience and command vibrated through the word. "This  _isn't_  your semblance's doing. You have to listen. Do you remember my letter to you?"

He thinks of the letter he got a few days before the school dance. "So?"

"I offered you a one time job. I wasn't aware of it, but Amber  _is_  that job. She needs protection and care. Who better than her soulmate who would give up his life to save hers?"

"I can't."

"Yes, you can. Look at her, Mr. Branwen. She needs you."

He looks down on Amber's limp figure. She doesn't need me, he thinks. Whatever Ozpin says, he did this. It's his fault. He needs to go away, leave her in better hands than his. He's destined to be alone. But...

At least for now, he could take care of her.

With a nod, he cups both hands under her armpits before hauling her up and off the chair and onto his shoulder. He slowly turns to Ozpin, who gives him a small smile.

"We cannot cause a panic," he repeats. "Letting other students see her will do that. We'll take her to the nurse for now."

As they leave the fucking waiter returns, "Hey, we already had your food ready!"

* * *

She surfaces to muffled manly arguing, interrupted by the methodical  _beep beep_   _beep_  of the machine. She picks up the smell of calamari, and she follows her nose to the side table, where it sits with barbeque dip. She reaches for one.

"While you buttheads fight like girls, Amber's already trying to get food. Gods. Riley, let's head in there."

"Wait, I'm going with–"

"Oh, no, bird boy. You're staying out. You too, Icarus. Wait for Professor Ozpin. You'll only give Amber a bigger headache."

"And you two won't?"

"One of us can't even talk! What're we gonna do, talk her ear off with our hands? You might have a bird brain with that bird name, but get a damn grip. That's one of my best friends in there, I won't hurt her. Come on, Riley."

* * *

He couldn't believe any of it.

Even after Ozpin explained everything, after he told them the story of the four maidens, and even after Amber managed to conjure a small ball of flame in her hand, he couldn't fucking believe that this was happening.

It's been days since the Vytal tournament ended. Summer won the finals for Team STRQ, but he felt so bleary and faded he couldn't focus on the celebrations. Raven nagged him about it, but Ozpin demanded his vow to remain silent, not just for him, but for Amber's safety as well. Perching himself on a branch outside of her room, he mulls over the mess he's gotten himself into.

It was just so surreal, he thought. Magic? Non-dust powers? A fate put on Amber by absolute chance?

Just couldn't fucking believe it.

Would things have been different if they hadn't gone on that date? If he had kept his distance, and ignored Summer's push to apologise, would Amber have remained unharmed? He could've upped and left with colour, and Amber would go back to Mistral with a broken heart, but a foreseeable future. Now her future's streamlined with training and lessons from Ozpin himself, to teach her how to defend herself from thugs that hunts maidens. She went to school to kill Grimm, he fumes, not murderers.

Unlucky for them, he was a thug in a previous life, so he knows how they think.

He soars into the sky, and makes his way back. She's leaving tomorrow, he thinks. They'll see their goodbye, and he'll never see her again. He'll live his life as a Hunter, and she as the new Fall Maiden. Separate paths, same goal, sure, but that didn't mean they'll reach it together.

He'll keep his distance, he decides as his heart clutches. He'll let her go. It's for her own damn good.

* * *

Amber interlaces her fingers with Qrow, feeling as  _yellow_ and _orange_  as a fun summer sun. She refuses to let her looming departure dampen her morning. She already had waffles drowning in maple syrup for breakfast, a talk with Ozpin about her future, and an ongoing morning walk with the love of her life. She'll cherish whatever she could.

"Okay, how about...favourite season?"

"Winter," he answers. "I like the cold."

"Does that mean we're gonna have a fireplace?"

"What?"

"Go with me here," she insists. "So the hearth of the fire, maybe a dog or two?"

"One mutt should be enough."

They pass by an icecream stall and Qrow obliges her with a cone. They decide to sit by the docks, the soles of their feet licked by the lapping sea. "The world is beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"I can see why everyone used colour to end the Great War. How can anyone say no to this kind of power? It is like power, isn't it? Not like a maiden's, of course, but it holds its own."

"It does. Are you...doing okay? Being the Fall Maiden?"

She made a promise to divert any conversations about being a maiden. No choice now, she sighs. "I'm okay. Professor Ozpin says he'll be coming over to train me after graduation."

Graduation. Gods, it seems like forever since he thought of that. "Right."

"I hope I'll do well. I mean, I'll be training with  _the_  Professor Ozpin, so I'm sure he'll have high expectations."

"You'll do great, Amber."

Her name sounds melodic from him. She smiles, "Thanks."

He nods once and looks out the dock. Considering, his eyes slide over to see Amber just about finished her ice cream. He gulfs down his and, with a mile-wide-shit-eating grin, pushes Amber off the dock and into the cool water.

"Qrow!"

Laughing, he jumps down with her. She surfaces sputtering, still holding the now soggy quarter of a cone. He exerts two strong kicks to get closer to her, and he wraps an arm around her waist. The arm she loops around his neck feels just right, and he damn wishes he wasn't such a bad luck charm. He lets the waves push them around, and his blood sizzles when she settles against him.

"You know there's a beach not that far away," she says.

"But that's there, and the docks are here. Besides, you look pretty all mussed up."

Her cheeks go tomato-red. "Please. I look like a drenched cat."

"Pretty," he repeats and says nothing more.

They kiss, under the blue sky, in the blue ocean. Feeling and seeing so many  _orangeredscarlet_  fireworks behind her eyelids, she gives herself into the kiss. Her fingers comb through his hair, and his lips caress hers. A complete opposite of their first kiss, she muses, and this one she likes more. Loving, tender and sweet. It throws her off balance, but she can feel both love and hunger on his lips. She longs for him, all of him, no boundaries, no secrets.

She wants to stay right here, with him. She wants the fireplace and a dog, a home, with him. She's sure she could be the Fall Maiden and still have a family.

But she learned it's all wishful thinking when it comes to Qrow.

So she pulls away, and through extreme willpower, she smiles easily. "How do I get back to my dorm without dripping water all over the place?"

"Just use the showers by the beach."

"And with what towel do I dry up with?"

"I'll...get you some."

"From where?"

"Somewhere."

She shakes her head, laughing. "You're silly. Fine, don't tell me where you're getting your towel. I'll see you by the ship? I'll have to get back to the team before we leave."

"Okay."

"Are you okay?" she asks when she notices his eyes.

"I miss you."

She'll never figure him out like this. Her head swimming in utter love and confusion, she responds, "I miss you, too."

He says nothing else, lets her go and swims his way to the ladder. He waits until she climbs up, his hand shooting out to hold her wrist when she slips. He pulls her up, and his heart slows from the rush.

"Sorry," they both say.

"I was clumsy."

"No, you weren't. My fault. I'll go get your towel."

"I'll see you later, okay?" she offers a smile but deflates when he doesn't return it.

"Okay."

* * *

"I'm sure he'll visit," Iris comforts as the anchor is lifted and the ship blows its goodbye. "Don't worry."

"You weren't there for the kiss in the docks. It was a goodbye kiss, Iris. Like he'll never kiss me again. He wasn't even there to wave goodbye." That strikes her the most.

"I'm sorry about that. Maybe he got stuck with Vytal Champions stuff. Here, I'll go and find Icarus and Riley, we'll harass the food stalls."

"I don't want to."

"Better than moping here like a mourning girl that waited eighty four years for a necklace."

Amber looks at her, perplexed. "That's oddly specific."

"I read it somewhere. So? You coming?"

"No. I'll stay here. Maybe I'll throw that necklace into the ocean and never think about him again."

"You know, I think that's exactly what happened. Not sure." Iris shrugs. "We'll be right here, okay?"

"...Okay."

* * *

The colours become second nature, and a few months after graduation it doesn't vividly remind her of him anymore. In fact, she rarely thinks of him, and instead thinks of keeping her own skin. Professor Ozpin trains her right into the mud, the summer sun prickling her back like a bed of nails strapped to her body. The sudden thunderstorm from yesterday gifted the present with a blanket of intense heat and humidity. The trees boast a bodacious green afro, the birds singing and the wind whistling through the leaves. The smell of sweat mingled with her mentor's tea as she fights through a mind-block.

She learns how to control fire, the basic element of life. Energy, he said, comes from within, and fire is the best and worst energy known to man. Then she's taught lightning and ice, not exactly complimentary to each other yet helpful to her survival.

She only half-listened to his lectures.

* * *

Summer rolled through Mistral like a damn parade. The idle cymbals of cicadas, the crazed drumming of woodpeckers and the untuned trumpets of howling dogs made for a bad time. What's worse, she fumes, is that summer stretched the days, and the parade lasted longer to torture her. The scorching heat had her begging Ozpin to cancel this week's training. She just wanted to stay home, under a roof, without wondering whether the smell of smoke was from her hair burning or a grill.

But the season also brought with it tourists from all around Remnant. The market boomed, and not just with people and conversation, but Amber saw vendors with a bigger smile on their face knowing they could treat their kids tonight. The colours mixed and blended, and for the first time, she feels a genuine smile. Red-faced kids huffed through their game of tag. The crystal blue waterfall splashed the newcomers. A yellow hat flew in the wind, leading the woman chasing it into the man who caught it. She wore her orange shirt, and decided the guy who sold it was right.

She only found herself wandering towards the docks once or twice, but she always caught herself and wilfully turned around. She's still mad at him, she's still scrapping the heart pieces, and she's still contemplating on using her barely-mastered fire power to burn a hole through his.

She's still wondering if he misses her too.

* * *

His wings couldn't flap fast enough.

_Twang._

He needs to run.

_Swish._

He transforms, and he bullets across the field. He shouldn't have been here. He shouldn't have been near her. This is what happens. But shouldn't's won't save her. He pulls out his sword, leaps and tears through the latex-rubber-band-looking thing that connected Amber and her assailant. He lashes out blindly, and meets nothing. He throws his weapon away to catch her, and vividly remembers the panic he felt on their first date. Not again, he pleads. Not again.

The glowing woman seems to dance, her arms raised and her hands conjuring fire. The heat blurred her face, and he had a second to jump away before they were disintegrated by a fiery eye. Then they were gone, and Qrow took the chance to look at what he's caused.

Gritting his teeth, he pulls the arrow from her back, and she groans. She's alive, he thinks as he presses a hand over the wound. Careful, and full of dread and unimaginable hate for himself, he leaps to find help.

* * *

"Qrow..."

"Amber. I'm here. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. You'll be okay, we got you some help."

"Qrow."

"Amber? Wait. James! What the fuck? Amber, stay with me-"

* * *

"She's stable."

"What does that mean?"

"It means, she's alive, but barely. She won't be able to survive outside this pod. Her assailant sucked her powers and her Aura. It won't regenerate, and everything our scientists are doing have been...futile. I'm sorry, Ozpin, but she cannot be the Fall Maiden."

"Hmm. What-"

"You're useless! You and your fucking science. She's basically a fucking corpse and-"

"Qrow," Ozpin, ever calm, interrupts. "James, what do you suggest we do?"

"Since my scientists cannot regenerate her Aura or her stolen powers, we can transfer it."

"Transfer."

"This equipment will be able to move her soul from one capsule to another."

"How do you know it works? She's not a fucking guinea pig."

"She isn't. But there's nothing else we can do. With half her powers gone and her body limp, we have no choice but to abandon-alter-her physical form."

Ozpin sighs when Qrow surges forward and lands a strong punch on the commander's jaw.

* * *

Fall broke through the heat, and the leaves start to hound the gardeners. The air iced overtime, but he didn't notice it. He only saw it when people began to replace tank tops with sweaters. He let himself in his room, ignoring the unmade bed, and walks straight to the balcony. The smell of dry trees reached him, and the sound of leaf blowers revved through the early morning. Oughta piss people off, he thinks. He saw neighbours wave over the fence, and a dog yapping at another. A young bird, whatever kind it is, braves the odds and lands on his balcony. He stares at it, and it challenges back.

"What do you want?" he demands.

He gets nothing in response. He ignores it. But he's conscious of its existence and he grabs it. Unconsciously, he squeezes his fist, so tight he could feel its heart. It spits, and he lets go. It flees, and he lets the tears come.

He can damn well cry if he wanted to.

It's silent, and he feels them splatting on his hand. He doesn't want to think about it. He refuses. He'll move forward, and he'll goddamn kill whoever he needs to kill. No matter what it takes.

He heaves once, takes a breath, and opens his palm. In it sat a lone feather. He stares.

If only he knew what colour it was.

* * *

**A/N: It may be obvious but the previous chapter was written before the you-know-what-about-the-Branwens was revealed. I decided to go along with it this chapter, since it'd be a crack in the story otherwise. Also, shoutout and thanks to Xzeihoranth for commenting quite consistently, i see you!! See you guys later :)**


	4. Yang

**A/N: This is all just angst, if I'm being honest. I do want to write Bmblb up until the current volume (volume 6, at time of writing), but I'm recently crawling out of a haven't-written-in-about-a-year cave, so please bear with me. Angst is the only way I know how to crawl out of that, haha.**

**Also, major shout out to the love of my life for the new cover picture. I'll probably be changing that whenever I upload a new chapter. Anyways, enjoy!**

* * *

It shouldn't have been this way.

Blake paces the hospital halls with increasing trepidation. She hears dull conversations behind her in the lobby, along with the soft whirring of the vending machine. She can smell the poor blend of coffee by the reception desk. Her eyes flicker to the light indicating an ongoing procedure; it still glares red. Her leaden heart is threatening rampage, so she desperately tries to get herself together by naming everything she can in the hall.

Blue walls. Black chairs. Red light. Gray tiles. White coats. Red light. Green exit sign. Yellow sunflowers. Red light, red light, red—

Gray light.

The door opens, and an old man with a surgical mask hanging from his neck steps out. Leaving a shadow clone, she jumps out the window, landing on the roof right outside. She plasters herself against the wall as the sound of thundering feet fill the halls before an unfamiliar voice rings out.

"Is she okay?! Is—"

"Mr. Xiao Long." The doctor's voice is patient. Blake's heart rises to her throat — oh shit oh  _shit_  — as her mind panics and careens itself off the edge of a cliff with questions she didn't want answers to.

_Is she dead? Is she—Did she really just kill her soulmate?_

The panic blinds her, and for a second, her world goes familiarly dull before it lights up again. She hardly dares to breathe, as if one breath can blow away the only person she ever loved.

"Ms. Xiao Long will be making a full recovery."

A soft moan escapes her lips as relief sags her shoulders, her knees buckling so quickly she slides down the wall, the words repeating themselves in her head.  _A full recovery._ She holds her hand to her mouth, pressing in the sobs that threaten to tear out. She cannot cry. Not yet. Right now, crying feels like a release she doesn't deserve. Not yet.

"And her arm?" Tai asks quietly.

The doctor sounds sombre when he replies, "Unfortunately, her arm will remain amputated. It should take her a few months to recover, both physically and psychologically. In the meantime, I..."

Blake almost ignores this, almost accepts it and is almost just satisfied that Yang is alive. Belatedly, she consciously thinks of the colours around her, which renders her earlier panic moot.

She's had them for a few months now, and she totally forgot what a world without colour looked like. But when she saw Yang propelling towards her, when she saw the blade cut through her anger like silk, she swears, it's as if someone had flicked a switch, and for a horrifying moment, she was given a reminder.

It was dark. So unforgivingly dark.

Even just thinking about it now, on the hospital roof, where she clearly sees the green leaves and the blue sky, makes her chest spasm and her breath hitches in her throat. Her eyes blur, and she has to run away before she does something crazy like beg for forgiveness.

It's crazy, because Yang would brush it off. Yang would say it wasn't her fault. Yang would forgive her, like it was nothing. It's crazy to be granted something she rightfully does not deserve.

So she runs, past the Grimm, past the broken streets and screaming people she'd sworn to protect, and with an almost aching familiarity, runs herself into an alley that looks like it's made for runaways.

She leans against a dumpster, and finally lets herself sob.

* * *

She never feared death.

After everything she's seen, everything she's  _done_ , death became more and more enticing to her. A mere phase in a cruel cycle. The other side of the hill. There was even a point - a low point, she admits now - in her life where she sought it. But with every door that death has opened for her, she selfishly shies away, opting not to join it.

Before Beacon, she didn't have a reason to live. Not really. She just figured she owed it to herself to see what else destiny has in store for her. So she'd gotten good with functioning on autopilot, fighting Grimm, fighting humans, being exactly what Adam wanted her to be. She didn't have a reason to live, nor did she really have a reason to not survive.

But when Yang and Ruby jostled their way to her, when she saw her soulmate (to be honest, she kind of assumed she didn't have one), when her world saturated itself in colour, suddenly everything made sense. Everything had lead her to that moment, the moment of perfect clarity of where she finally belonged.

With Yang.

And with Yang, she did fear death. Not because she'd die, no. But because her death would mean taking away Yang's colours. Because her death would hurt Yang to the core, and she can't think of anybody else in the world she'd rather protect. So she fought for her, for them, striving for Yang's snarky grins, her laughs and eventually, her kisses.

Because with Yang she knew what death really meant. Because with Yang, she knew love.

And for a while there, she thought she deserved it.

* * *

Yang surfaces groggily, her head thrumming like a jungle drum. She opens her eyes to slits, trying to piece together where she is.

Hospital is her first guess, what with the clinic white blanket, the mute blue walls and carpet. She looks to the side of her bed, and sees her dad's head lolling to the side, sound asleep. She smiles fondly; he hasn't changed a bit since she last saw him. He does need a shave though; she'd have to tell him that later.

What does she last remember?

Blake.

Her heart does a somersault, and she has to look around her again to ensure herself that yes, ok yes there's colours which means Blake is not dead which means right now, Blake is missing. But that's literally all she can deduce.

Where is she? How is she? Did she really get stabbed in the stomach?

Her headache increases tenfold, and she has to slump back to the bed before her brain literally explodes.

* * *

Later, she screams.

* * *

Later still, she cries when Sun offers her flowers and tells her about Blake.

* * *

Much later still, she curses the gods for giving her a soulmate.

* * *

_"Hey, dad?"_

_"Yeah?"_

_"Do you have colours?"_

_Surprised, Tai turns from the sink, sponge and dirty plate still in hands. "Why do you ask?"_

_Yang shrugs, as nonchalantly as a ten year old could. "I 'unno. Cybil said her parents have colours, and they tell her all about it. Like, apparently, they said I have yellow hair. Which is cool, but...you've never told me or Ruby any stories or whatever."_

_"I..."_

_"Did you have a soulmate?"_

_Tai sighs, sliding the plate back into the sink filled with water and washes his hands from the soap. He turns to face Yang again as he dries them. "Everyone has a soulmate, Yang."_

_"But do you?"_

_"I hope so," Tai says carefully._

_Yang furrows her eyebrows in deep thought. "So..." she begins, "does that mean my mom wasn't your soulmate?"_

_"No, sweetie, she wasn't."_

_"But you loved her?"_

_"Very much so."_

_"And Summer isn't your soulmate?"_

_"Unfortunately not."_

_"But you loved her too?"_

_"Yes."_

_She looks down at her feet before continuing with a small voice. "Do you think my mom loved me?"_

_Sighing, Tai kneels down to meet her eyes, big and begging, with his. He always thought of Yang as his sunny little dragon. So fierce, bright and so damn headstrong. He would've been lost without her, would've definitely failed as a father to Ruby if Yang hadn't helped him find his north. Her love kept him grounded, her stubbornness kept him on his toes. Her stability, her willingness to step up to the plate, kept their family together. And what does his girl get in return?_

_A runaway mother and a dead stepmother._

_"Yang." He tucks a stray hair behind her ear. He knows how lucky he was to be one of the few that was actually allowed to touch it. "In every practical sense, Summer was your mother. She was there for you, for Ruby. I know she loves you."_

_He says this in the present tense because that is what he believes. Nothing, not even Grimm, could stand between Summer and those she loved._

_"But—"_

_"And so does Raven." Tai says, genuinely meaning it, though there's no mistaking the anger he feels in him, for Yang, for how undeserving she is of this insecurity. "In her own Raven way, she loves you, too."_

_Yang nods, though more in acknowledgement than agreement. She heard him, but she may not have accepted his response. He doesn't quite know how to fix that._

_"Do you think I'll get colour?"_

_"Without a doubt," he says immediately._

_This lifts Yang's mouth into a small smile. She knows her dad just said that out of instinct, but the thought of if is nice. "I wonder how it looks like."_

_This is what hurts Tai the most. The not knowing, not being able to give his girls even a hint of what a world in colour looked like. Sure, not every kid with a broken family history has parents with colours — there are billions of people around the world, after all — but with everything his family has been through, the least he could do is to prepare his girls for destiny's decree._

_"Well, you're the one that'll meet their soulmate." Tai winks at her as he stands. "Let me know how that turns out."._

* * *

"It's awful."

Tai looks at her silently. "Yeah?"

"Yes. It's disgusting. Honestly, I envy people who don't have colour."

He lets out a dry laugh. "I think you're the first person in the entire history of the universe to say that."

Yang ignores that. "Who would want to live like this?" she demands, gesturing around her room. "Like, why would you want to have a constant reminder that you found the love of your life? That you found the one to spend your life with? Don't they know they'll just disappoint you? That they'll just...just up and leave without even saying goodbye or say where they're going. Why would they do that? Why would she do that? What did I do?"

The dam breaks. "What did I  _do_?"

She's crying freely now, and the colours, the world she so actively despises, looks like she's underwater, dark and distorted. She feels strong arms wrap around her, and she wilts into them. It's like she can feel every nerve ending in her fingers, and her chest constricts she can barely breathe. She lets the sob ravage her from the inside out, starting from her stomach, weeping as it claws its way to her heart, and escaping through her mouth, with the sounds akin to an injured animal.

* * *

For the next few days, Yang goes through the motions.

Sweeping the porch, washing the dishes, taking Zwei out for a walk. On one of the walks, it barely registers that this is the first time she's seeing Patch in colour. The  _greenredyellow_  canopy of the trees look amazing; she didn't know the sun can bring out such life out of the forest. The ground is a kaleidoscope of orange and brown, probably from the falling leaves of autumn. It all looks really, really pretty and it hurts because all she wants to do is run to Blake and tell her about it.

But she can't and it's all she can do before she collapse and breaks down in tears.

* * *

_"I'm sorry for running away from you when we first met."_

_Yang laughs. She and Blake had decided to roam around Vale for the weekend. They and the rest of Team RWBY (she can't quite hold in the pride for her sister as their leader) just finished setting up their room, and everyone was in such high spirits she figured Blake couldn't say no to an invitation to the city. She was right._

_"I get why you did, sort of." She looks around her, gesturing. "This is all pretty intense."_

_"...Yeah."_

_"So where did you run off to, anyway?"_

_"I...went to the library. To know more about the colours."_

_"Oh. And?"_

_"And what?"_

_"What'd you learn?" Yang clarifies._

_"That the books don't do the colours justice."_

_Yang grins, and they stop at the plaza, silently and mutually agreeing to sit on one of the benches. She never really people-watched before, but she can't help but pity them. Do they know how mismatched they look? Probably not. And isn't it just wonderful that she does?_

_"What colour's your favourite so far?" she asks Blake._

_"Um..." Blake's eyes dart back and forth between Yang and the people walking past. "Lilac."_

_"Oh. What's that?"_

_She watches as a light red fades into Blake's cheeks. So that's what a blush looks like. She read about it in books before. It looks way more adorable than she thought._

_"Your...your eyes."_

_Yang frowns, "My eyes?"_

_"They're lilac."_

_"Oh." Idly, Yang wonders what colours can describe this warmth in her chest._

* * *

She does cry, eventually. In bed, during breakfast. Her eyes' favourite spot so far is the shower. It's not because the water hides her tears; she's conscious enough to realise that that sounds way too cliche.

No, it's because, for whatever reason, she doesn't make noise. She cries silently under the hot spray, her vocal chords stretching and straining for any noise that doesn't come. It's painful, but it's silent. This comforts her, as if convincing herself that if the world doesn't hear them, they don't actually count.

* * *

Soon enough, the days turn to weeks, and those weeks morph to months. She almost feels like she shouldn't do anything different than what she has been doing. As if that would cause a tectonic shift, and her carefully constructed days of hurt and anger will give way to longing and grief. She doesn't want to feel those.

She's kind of scared of what they'd make her do.

* * *

The nightmares come every night, forcing her to relive the scene over and over until she can practically time the whole thing. And every night, she bolts up, shivering, sweating. She takes a breath, then a second, then keeps going until she levels her breathing and feels somewhat normal.

They never let her off easy. Sometimes, they do, and the nightmares let her go back to sleep for a few more hours. But most of the time. she can't go back to sleep, so she goes downstairs and just sits on the couch in front of the TV, staring blankly into the dark living room.

She's there now, the dawn barely stirring in its sleep, the house quiet but for the sound of her breathing. A crude part of her likes this, the darkness. She can pretend that she's blind, that she doesn't have colours. She finds herself craving it, just staying in bed for most of the day, keeping her eyes closed, the void blanketing her like anesthesia. It stops her, however briefly, from thinking about Blake. It's not like the way surgeons put their patients under during the surgery though, where they're just sore after. This one, the procedure keeps going, the scalpel keeps piercing through her stomach, her chest, cutting right through.

And she knew only of one person who can fix her back together.

* * *

Actually,  _fuck_  that. Fuck  _that_.

Who does destiny think it is? Why does it think it can pass off a broken soulmate to her and then give everyone else a decent one? When did  _she_  pull the short straw?

If she keeps going like this, she'd end up growing old and sulky and annoying. Fuck that.

If she can just find a foothold, something to hold onto, she can pull herself out of this. She was Yang Xiao Long, damn it. She has an amazing family, a kickass dad and a little sister to take care of and—

_That's it!_

* * *

_"Yang..."_

_"Come on, Ruby." Dripping from a diving demonstration, Yang steps up next to her sister, goggles over her eyes and hands above her head like a torpedo. "Just like I showed you. Breathe deep, then break the water with your hands like this."_

_"But why can't we do it at the shallow end? At least I know I won't drown in there."_

_"Because you're not a kid anymore. You're going to Signal next year! There's no way you're going to a proper warrior school without at least learning how to swim properly. Stop stalling."_

_"I—"_

_Over it, Yang moves quickly. She steps behind her sister, and banking on the fact that her sister loves her and would probably forgive her after a heap of cookies, Yang pushes Ruby into the water._

_"Aaaah!" Ruby screams as she hits the water._

_Yang lets out a whoop and cannonballs into the pool. This sends Ruby sputtering as water hits her face. Laughing, Yang wades through the water towards her sister, who doggy paddles to the side and clings onto the edge of the pool. Yang nudges Ruby's shoulder with her own. "That wasn't so bad now, was it?"_

_"I think I have water in my ear."_

_Her eyes twinkle. "Well...water you waiting for? Get it out." She shrieks when Ruby splashes water in her direction. "Hey!"_

_"That was terrible!"_

_"You know you love me."_

_Ruby pretends to think that through, then laughs when Yang splashes at her. "Okay! Okay, of course I do."_

_"That's better."_

_Yang lets go of the side and instead lays on her back, her arms making subtle S-shaped movements to keep her afloat. Her ears are kind of submerged, so she doesn't hear what Ruby says until Yang finds her sister's mouth moving._

_"Sorry, what?" She gets herself upright. "I didn't hear you."_

_"I...I was really scared of you leaving, you know."_

_Confusion flickers in Yang's eyes, in the way she tilts her head. "What do you mean?"_

_"I...well, I would've been left back at Signal alone, without having you right there after classes. Then you would've stayed at Beacon for the holidays, and I would've had to go home alone and you know Dad loves it when we're all together and I-" she sighs. "I don't know what I'm saying. I would've really missed you, that's all."_

_Touched, Yang wraps an arm around Ruby's waist and closes her into a one-arm hug. "I would've missed you too. But you don't have to worry about that anymore. You're going fly through Signal, and then go to Beacon just like I will. I can never be more proud of you for that, sis."_

_"Besides," Yang continues, shooting Ruby a winning smile. "I'm your sister. I'll never leave you."_

* * *

Her resolve comes back in pieces, like a big jigsaw puzzle slowly falling into place. She has some off days, yes, but she recovers. She can't really talk to her dad about it yet, instead opting to talk to Zwei when it gets really bad. The dog always knew what to say to make her feel better.

She doesn't change her routine much, but she's proud of the fact that she always gets out of bed. Some days prove to be a lot harder than others on that front as well, but by midday she'd always manage to have gotten herself out of her room. There's a day where she looks at herself in the mirror, like really  _looks_ , and she feels like she's staring at a stranger.

Her hair is disheveled, her cheeks are too pale, her eyes look hollow and the dark circles under them actually reminds her of when Blake...

She takes a deep breath. This is another development that's been progressing lately. She can think of Blake as a fond, distant memory. She can safely reminisce about her, about Beacon so long as her mind doesn't trip into the kisses and the longing looks and touches and, well,  _and_. It's kind of hard, and the colours seem to brighten up in protest like they're saying "hello? we're still here!".

* * *

Tai comes home with an Atlas-made metal arm, so shiny she can see her reflection on it, and Yang isn't sure how to feel about it.

"Well?" She can hear the hope in Tai's voice. "You're gonna try it on?"

She should. She  _should_  try it on. She should  _want_  to try it on. But she doesn't. For some reason, it just feels like the arm is forcing her to be okay. And don't get her wrong, she wants to finally be okay and find her sister but...she feels like she's been tumbling down some steps, and she's trying to get back up, and wants to be careful to take each step up carefully without skipping any. She just feels like that's the way to go so she can fully accept everything that's happened.

Of course, she doesn't say any of this to Tai. Instead, she says: "I...uh, I'm not feeling too great right now. Maybe later?"

She feels like the worst human when Tai's face drops. She swears then and there to make it up to him when she can. She isn't going to disappoint anyone else when she's better.

* * *

She hears the knock, and her mouth immediately lifts up to a ghost of a smile when Tai walks in holding a tray heaped with grapes and bacon and eggs.

"Hey, sunshine."

"Hi, dad. What's this?" She'd been getting her own breakfast for a while now.

"Hm? Oh, the usual. Bacon and eggs. Grapes, if you're up for it. And, obviously, water."

She shakes her head. "No, no. I mean, what is this? I didn't ask you to bring me food."

Tai says, "I know," but Yang catches his eyes.

"But?"

He sighs, setting the tray on Yang's bedside table. "I...just want to know what's going on. It's been a few months, and I've given you as much space as you needed, but...I think it's time for you to let me in. I miss you too, Yang."

Her eyes brim over with tears. "I'm sorry."

"No, sweetie, it's okay. I get it. I was like you too when Summer left, remember?"

She does remember. "You kind of shut down."

"I did. And you were there to pick up after me. After Ruby. Now, you have to let me do that for you."

Yang sighs. Blake was the only person she opened up to, and Blake always knew what to do, what to say. It's like she had a guide book about Yang, always saying the right thing to defuse the temper inside her. Even if they only knew each other for a few weeks, everything with Blake felt like magic, like she finally found a place to call home. The aloe vera to her burn, so to speak.

And having that taken away had left her hollow and scared.

"I may not have met my soulmate," Tai continues, sitting on her bed. "But I know what it feels like to be left behind. It sucks. Hard. It's painful and it feels like the end of the world. But all we can do, after all is said and done, is to keep moving forward. To take that pain as life lessons, and, well, grow."

Unconsciously, Yang smiles. Like an actual, tearful yet happy smile. And it feels  _great_. Inside her, she feels what she'd been feeling the past few weeks: like another piece has fallen into place.

She wipes the tears from her cheeks. "How long have you been practicing that speech?"

Tai grins, quick as lightning. "A while, actually. How'd I do?"

"It was exactly what I needed."

His grin dials back into a soft smile, like he's proud of her, and she mirrors it. He hugs her, and she feels like a ten year old again, small and secure, in his arms.

"It's actually a lot easier to hug you with just one arm."

Yang pushes him away and stares. He has another grin on his face, borderline smirking. She tries to find the shock, the anger, the hurt at the comment. But instead, she's pleasantly surprised when a bubble of laughter rings out. The sound is foreign to her now, but it feels right to laugh. It's like she's popped the cork of a wine bottle, like she's found her second wind, like she's finally,  _finally_  on the homestretch of being okay.

"Hey, dad?"

"Yeah?"

"The colours aren't so bad."

His eyes glint, like he'd been dying to ask. "Yeah? What colour's your favourite?"

There it is, a pinch in the heart. "Uh...yellow, I think."

"'Cause of your hair?"

"Uh-well, it's not really yellow. It's like...yellowish brownish."

"I'll pretend I know what you're saying," Tai muses as he pulls a grape from the bunch and pops it in his mouth.

"Amber, is what it's called."

"Amber," he purses his lips, like he's testing out the word. "Why's that your favourite colour?"

She cuts her eyes away, to the window, to the branches she's witnessed lose and grow its leaves back.

"I don't know," she says finally. "It's just pretty. The other colours are cool, too."

They spend the rest of the day talking about colours, how she can't think of the colour red without thinking of Ruby, and Weiss was the embodiment of snow. She doesn't talk about Blake, since her throat already hurts just mentioning her soulmate's eye colour. She tells him how well he did with the garden, how pretty it all looks. She tells him about Beacon, Vale, and just how breathtaking everything is without the black and white filter. Tai gets a look in his eyes, as if he's thinking about how lucky she was.

She doesn't say anything else after that.

* * *

"I lost a  _part_  of me. A piece of me is gone. And it's never coming back."

She's well-aware she isn't talking about her arm anymore. She sees this register in Tai's face, but she can't really stop herself.

"Blake  _left_  me. It was her choice to leave, just like it was my choice to try and save her. It wasn't just my arm I lost that day. I lost my soulmate. My  _best friend_. I never thought she'd do that to me."

She feels the gear shift, when she knows her eyes burn red. "She left me  _alone_."

"No," Tai tells her simply. "You did that all on your own."

The shock pierces through her like a spear. " _What_?" she says incredulously.

"She didn't  _leave_  you. You'd be dead if she did, and you know it. She took you away from the fight, and she made sure you were okay. Then yes, she left. But you locked yourself in your room without so much as a word to me. You had  _me,_ Yang. If not me, you had Ruby. She tried her damndest to get through to you, but I can bet your other arm you don't even remember that."

Truthfully,  _sickeningly_ , she doesn't.

"You weren't alone, Yang. You chose to be. And that's okay." The scream in her silenced itself at that, and she looks up quietly. "We all need alone time at some point. And you  _can_  blame Blake, but you can't put all the blame on her, when she's not even here to defend herself. I'm sure she has her reasons."

"I don't care," Yang says with finality. "I don't care anymore. I care about my sister."

Tai nods firmly. "Then whenever you're ready to stop moping, and get back out there? I'll be there for you.

Losing the fight in her, she wraps her arms around Tai, pressing her cheek to his chest. She feels his hand thread through her hair. "My dragon," he mumbles. "You've lost your way."

"I know."

"Let's get you back on track."

"Soon."

"Okay."

They stand there, hugging, until a throat clears itself behind them.

"Should...should we take our leave?" Oobleck asks uneasily.

This time, the laughter douses the rest of the flames in her stomach, and the smile reaches her eyes.

* * *

Yang wrestles with herself the following morning.

She has the arm on her lap. It actually feels pretty smooth, and it isn't as heavy as she thought it'd be. She wiggles each finger, starting with the pinky. They all make a small, mechanical squeaking sound. Then getting an idea, she forces all of the fingers towards the palm except the middle one. She giggles at that.

She's at the top of the steps now. She can feel it. She may not have gotten over losing her arm, and the shakes and flashbacks don't help any, but she's done feeling sorry for herself. She's accepted the colours, though for whatever reason, everyday she sees them growing dimmer and dimmer. The sunflowers outside are getting less and less yellow, and she's pretty sure the mailbox looked a lot redder a few months ago. She doesn't think about the why, she'll get the answers soon enough. Right now, she has to apologise to the person who's been there for her since the very beginning, even when she hasn't appreciated it.

She fits on the arm (it really does feel good) and heads down the stairs. Doctor Zwei looks at her expectantly from his bed near the couch, as if saying "another session?". She smiles and beckons him to follow her outside.

The sun blinds her as she walks out, and yes, the colours look subdued, but she ignores it. As long as they're there, as long as she knows Blake is alive, she can get her answers later. It's been long overdue to put her real family first.

"Okay," She turns her head when Tai stands, when he nods at her like he's been expecting this. "Let's get started."


End file.
